I went to call Trent to come and eat pizza last night.
It has been nearly four months and my mind still thinks he's here. I haven't intentionally looked for him since he died. Even on the way to the hospital the night of the accident I mentally forced myself to only count four heads instead of five. But now.....
My mind goes back and forth between wondering if he ever was here and a part of my life, like an imaginary child or something. My mind can't grasp the reality some days. It is rationalizing his absence.
But my soul knows. This mother's soul knows. The ache is because he is my son and he is not here. The joy is because he is with his savior. The two collide. The ache and the joy cannot intermix yet. One constantly demands to rise to the top.
I have determined to not get out of bed until I can praise God that Trent is in heaven. Some mornings I stay in bed longer, waiting for the real praise to come from my heart. Sorting this world and that world. Recalling scripture. Remembering how good God is. Remembering that He is sovereign. Remembering how much I long to be in heaven, too.
I look for the good works that God had prepared for me to do as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep at the end of the day. I wonder how the little things I can see could make eternal differences. I fight to live for my children still here. I fight to do good works for them. I pray for their salvation. I fight hiding in work to avoid feeling and grieving and loving and hurting.
I cry with my husband. Do you know how hard that is to do? To cry for your son together? He whispers God's promises to me and makes me cry again. I see God moving in Him and can see some of those good works first hand before my eyes.
I long for the day it will all be made right.