Grief

Let me tell you something about grief. It finds you. It tracks you down. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. I will be going about my day, wading through the motions, and it will hit me like a ton of bricks. Reminding me I am still a mother who lost her child. Reminding me it will never be the same. Reminding me he's not coming back. I have times where I feel like I'm going to be ok. Moments when I look at Bo and Whit and see all I have instead of all I have lost. And then it pulls me under like a strong current: one child is missing.

Bo is still asking questions about Webb, which makes me happy because it means he has not forgotten. Last night, I was laying next to him before he went to sleep, and he said, "Mommy, do you ever get sad?" I said, "Sure I do." He replied, "When you think about Webbie?" and I told him, "Yes, that makes Mommy very sad." He thought for a second and then told me, "Mommy, people get sick. When Webbie is up in the sky with Jesus, he's happy and not sick. When he is down here, he is very sick." I agreed with him, interested in his perspective on things. And then he said, "Mommy, we are so sad Webbie is not here. But Webbie is happy!" You know, out of all the things I have read, all the things people have told me, Bo's words were some of the most reassuring words I have heard. Maybe because it's so obvious. Maybe because the simplicity of a three year old makes it seem like it's ok for babies to be in heaven and not with us. I don't know why. But he was right, Webb is happy even though we are sad. And last night, that didn't seem as strange as it sometimes does.