"And if you were with me tonight, I'd sing to you just one more time. A song for a heart so big, god wouldn't let it live. May angels lead you in."
I think it is sometimes really hard to understand the things that happen in our lives. Why, at times, it seems like everything is a struggle and that nothing ever goes "right". This last year has been incredibly difficult - for me and for the people that I love. I never thought that I would have to witness my family endure such pain.
I remember vividly the morning my nephew died. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about the sound of my mom's voice on the phone telling me that I needed to come to the hospital. Or the look of heartbreak on my dad's face when he came to get me. Him asking me to call my oldest sister, because he said he, "just can't do it". What I remember the most are the faces. Lyndsey's, Matt's, my mom's, my Aunt Marlene's, my Uncle Artis', my grandma's. Everyone was in shock. Everyone was in disbelief because things aren't supposed to happen that way. How can it be possible that something that was supposed to be so joyful and so good could just be ripped from our grasp? I also will never forget my nephew's face. He was a beautiful baby. I'm not just saying that because I am his aunt. He looked like an angel.
We sat at the entrance to town waiting for the funeral home to bring him over, a long line of cars with sad people sitting in them. I told my brother Joe that I always thought his birth would be his biggest entrance, but that day he had 3 cop cars and a highway patrolman giving him an escort, followed by people that would have made sure that every day of his life he knew he was loved. People that were coming to the sad realization that they wouldn't have the opportunity.
The day we buried him was cold, it was overcast and gray, but as we were laying yellow roses on his tiny casket the sun broke through the clouds and was so warm. If I had not been there I would not have believed it, but it felt like he was telling us he was ok, that he was in good hands, and he would never have to hurt or struggle again.
A lot of times I wonder about the little person he would have become. About what we could teach him and what he could teach us. I think about him telling us what he learned in school, about what he wanted to be when he grew up. I could be his favorite aunt. I never knew I could miss someone so badly, especially a little someone that I didn't get a chance to know.
I guess that I had become somewhat immune to acknowledging what happens after a person dies. I have witnessed many deaths, I have held the hands of people as they took their last breath, and cleaned their bodies after they are gone, but I had never had to think about the aftermath until that day. And I can honestly tell you that the aftermath is far worse than I could have ever imagined. There are days filled with anger, days where all you can do is cry, days that you regret, and days that you don't think you can continue living in a world so filled with injustice. The worst days, however, are the ones when I see my sister cry, my mom has to stop talking because the words are choked back with tears, and my dad's eyes well up with the thought of chances missed.
I am hopeful, because we have all become so strong. The worst days don't happen as frequently. None of us will ever forget, and we will never stop hurting completely, but we will get better.
