Tuesday, August 19, 2008

First Day of School

I woke up this morning with a feeling of overwhelming sadness and dread. I walked through the day with an awareness that something was wrong but I couldn't quite figure it out. I felt like I had forgotten to do something but I couldn't remember what it was.

At about noon I heard the kids from the elementary school behind us outside for recess. Some thing in my brain clicked and I realized the source of my anxiety. It was the first day of school. The first day of school shouldn't be that big of a deal for a forty year old woman but when you have lost a child the first day of school is one of those days that throws your grief right back at you. No matter how far you have come in the "process" seeing the yellow buses puts you right back where you started.

Allie is homeschooled so Emma was the one I would go school shopping for each year. We would get a new backpack and new clothes. The whole big deal. Now I walk by that section of Target and try not to look. It only makes it worse.

I wish I could say it gets easier but it doesn't. I wish I could say that I won't look at every school bus I pass this year to see if it is #625. I wish I could say that every day at 3:30 pm I won't go to the window to see if the bus is there yet. I wish it didn't hurt just to pass the exit where Emma's school is. I wish.

As I went through the day I felt the Emma-shaped hole in my heart, reminding me that there is nothing that can ever fill that space. It is there to stay. It is a part of me. I am missing part of myself. I am broken.

You may be thinking that I should allow God to fill that space. Maybe you think I am not spiritual enough if I admit I have an empty space or that I am broken. I do believe God will fill that space, but it won't be here on this earth. When I die I will spend my eternity with Him and with my Emma and I hope with you, whoever you are. There, I will be whole.

For now, I am broken. And I am okay with that because I have hope. I have hope that there will be good days, as well as bad. I have hope that I will feel joy, not just grief. I have hope that my family will be with me to cry with me and to make me smile. I have hope that Emma is waiting for me, watching to see me get off the "bus" so she can come to meet me and take me home. Forever.

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