In May of 2007, Mark was hired to work Maintenance for five houses that are home to many "medically fragile" children. The social worker there told Mark that he often sees families hit rock bottom around the eighth month after their child dies. It is at that time that this social worker makes it a point to contact the families again to see how they are doing. I wonder about the timing of the eighth month. I wonder if families have a rough time at that point because it seems as if everyone has forgotten them. I wonder if perhaps it is hard because the shock and sting of death have worn off and the reality has set in. "Life goes on." Just typing those words brought tears to my eyes. It is a stabbing reality nonetheless. At the eighth month, you begin to realize that you have spent the last eight months doing pretty much nothing with your life. You start looking around and realizing you will have start living again only it is very clear that your life won't ever be the same.
The month of January marked our eighth month. Mark has never stopped going to work. He is lucky to have gotten that job because when Samuel relapsed, the employer was fully able to sympathize with the situation. When Samuel died, they had some understanding of what we would go through then as well. Mark is blessed to have this "stable" job with the economy in the condition that it is. One can truly look back and see how God planned the whole thing out. Through the last almost nine months now, Mark has continued to be the rock for the family. He broke down the day after Samuel died and I reminded him that "Daddies don't cry" as Samuel told him before he went to Heaven. I also told him that if he totally lost it, there was no way I was going to make it through. Selfish, I know. Our relationship has always been built by blunt honesty and I knew that there was no way I could handle his sorrow and mine too. Crying isn't second nature to him anyway so I am sure he was relieved that I did not expect him nor want him cry with me or experience the loss in the same way. I knew that he would have friends at work who would be empathetic in ways that even family members were unable to be. We have grieved separately for the most part. Mark still reads this journal so he knows where I am emotionally if I don't make it obvious and I am careful not to dump my sorrows on him either. We each have our own burdens and they are more than enough for one person. There have been times when I wrote an update and told him that if he read, it was at his own risk. Others I told him not to read at all. I know he grieves through my words and emotions here in his own space and time and that is fine. We have tried to take one or two weekend days a month to do something together alone and that has been very good for us though it started out feeling awkward and wrong at first. Now, the days are starting to get longer, the birds are all coming out to sing, and it is already February. All those spring projects we have planned for years and never gotten done might finally get our attention. Things like the yard, the garden we always wanted and never had. Actually, we did have a small garden going and then Samuel relapsed and it all died. Moving has always been on our mind for years now but I am not even considering it at the moment because it sounds like too much work and I am just not ready to commit. One day at a time. One thing at a time. The nicest part of the last nearly nine months for me has been that I haven't HAD to do anything which is good because I haven't really wanted to do anything either. What I have done, for the most part, has felt like an absolute effort which is another reason I am thankful Mark has had a job and been able to cope well enough to work. I have really needed this time to just do nothing. Eight months have come and gone and for us, the first month was still by far the worst. Each month after that has been a little easier to bear. Thank you Jesus! Thank you so much for your continued prayers.
The kids are doing well. It is amazing how easily they accept Samuel's physical death but I know why. They know he is not dead, but simply relocated. There have been few questions about his life, his sufferings or the "fairness" of it all. They miss him but they are fully aware that he is fine and that he visits us regularly. I thought dealing with their grief would be especially difficult but it has been easy thus far because they are so grounded in God. To be quite honest, this has probably been one of the best things to come out of Samuel's physical death. Jesus is real to them. Heaven is real to them. Eternal life is real to them. There is not one single thing on earth more important to me than that and over the last nearly nine months, I have watched as Jesus has made Himself real to each of them.
Anna is the one it is most obvious with. She is daily reminding me more and more of Delma. And after all, she is Anna Delma Backus, so she should. I sent her picture to Delma's best friend and she immediately dubbed her "Little Delma" just based on looks. She has been, "Little Dee" to us. Anyway, her latest question she likes to ask OFTEN is ,"Is that about Jesus or about Satan?" She asks when she hears me watching or listening to something either on TV or the Internet. That is such a Delma thing to ask. Are things so cut and dry? Absolutely. It is good that she has a grasp of this so early. She also says Jesus does "magic" and that makes me wonder what He showed her. One day at church, she whispered in my ear during worship that God was pretty. Hmm. When she goes into the backyard to play, she says that Jesus and Samuel are out there. When we go to Fred Meyer, she says that Samuel holds my hand. I don't doubt that she has been allowed to see things we don't. She is fully able to believe and receive. She has the peace that passes understanding.
A lot of things haven't changed much for the kids. They still spend time with each other in the same ways they did before Samuel left. They pair up the same: Kaysha and Anna, Daniel and Mark. Their method of coping with Samuel always being sick and with me has made the transition easier I am sure. No one lost their buddy in this respect except me since I was never far from Samuel. But in terms of playmates, their buddy system is a good thing.
Samuel's birthday and the one year mark of his departure are now looming ahead and those days, those two months, already feel sickening. The spring like weather we are having is tricking me into feeling like those touchy days are coming upon us a lot faster than we wanted them to. After Samuel left, I just wanted time to hurry up. I wanted the pain to hurry up and leave me. I wanted to push fast forward and get beyond those days is such intense pain. Pain that made me feel as if I was a prisoner in my own body. All my spirit wanted to do was fly free to be with Samuel and yet I was stuck here It is foolish to think we could go through the first anniversary of Samuel's death and even his birthday without feeling the loss all over again so I don't look forward to late April and May. And yet, the Lord has already started to soften the blow for me in many ways. We have already not celebrated two of Samuel's birthday's on earth while he was here. His second, at original diagnosis and his sixth, when he was dying. Neither day seemed appropriate for celebration. The nice social workers at the hospital in 2004 made him a huge card I still have and brought him some toys on that day but he wasn't much into celebrating. We ended up getting him a cake on his 3rd birthday that read "Happy 2nd and 3rd Birthday." We had a double party a year later. Last year, even though he got gifts galore, there was never an official party. At some point after, he just knew he was six and up to the day he died, he discussed Kaysha making his cake when he was feeling better. He was planning for a party. I know God and Delma would have taken care of that the second he entered Heaven. In fact, I know he was playing with us before he finally left our arms. I also know that God knows we will want to have a party for him in his presence for each birthday we will miss until we see him again. For whatever reason, it lessens the blow of his birthday knowing that not having it on the correct day, or in the correct year isn't something new. I know that those wrongs will be righted eventually
I have spent the last month with God, the family, and with my thoughts. I now dream of Samuel often but usually he is still here and "sick" in some way. So the dreams are not all that nice. I have actually pondered our relationship wondering how it might change if you remove all the "sickness" from it. Mark and I both know that the destruction to Samuel's body and constant calamity was what made him who he was, the boy we loved so much. He would be so different if you excluded all that. I wondered what it would be like to just "be" with him as opposed to always taking care of him, worrying about him, having my heart broken over and over again because of what was happening to him. Everytime we travel a hiway that used to take us to the hospital, I think of some ER trip in which I worried the entire trip knowing that no one was going to be able to truly help him. That was truer than I ever realized. I don't miss it. Not any of it. You know you have reached some sort of acceptance and peace when you read of another's child finally in remission when no one thought they would be and you truly feel happy for them without wishing it was your kid in remission, or wondering why yours died and this one gets more time. I am there I realized about a week ago. It is a good place to be. My boy is in remission forever. I don't have to worry anymore at all. The sad reality for the parents of the child newly in remission is that they will worry the rest of his life. I won't. All the heartwrenching hideous complications are over for us. I don't miss it, wouldn't wish it upon anyone. But again, I ask, what will things be like for Samuel and I when we meet again? I cannot imagine being with him and not worrying about what lies ahead. Does he still "need" me now that he doesn't need me to take care of him? Grief certainly plays tricks on your mind when there is no one there to answer you. I cannot say what our relationship was like on earth without some physical problem because we never really had a true break.
And then an interesting thing happened. Never say never when you wonder if God hears, or if your long lost loves hear. The picture of Samuel in the snow above is one of my favorites. It was a year old on January 28. If I could go back to one day, it would be that one. Everyone had so much fun on that day. It was one of those Heavenly days where time stood still for us and we just enjoyed every second of it. Nobody knew how to have fun the way Samuel did when he was feeling good. This past January 28 was a sad day for me because I longed for that joy in disbelief that it is now over a year old. In less than two months from that day, everything would go downhill in such an unexpected way. It hurts to think of that time, those precious days, they went by so fast. Too fast. I was listening to a widow speak about the first year after loss and how difficult it was just to get your bearings after a "part" of you is gone. I can relate. Samuel was as much a part of me as Mark is my husband. Moving on without that integral part has been one of the most difficult things I have had to do. This widow shared a song her husband wrote for her. Apparently each year he wrote her a song on Valentines Day. It was all piano music which I just love and I thought of Samuel. He would do something like that. Or he would have done something like that if he was still here. He would have dug deeper than just the surface stuff and given a gift that lasted longer than a day just as he did with his picture to me. Later that night, we went to Fred Meyer to get some groceries. It was busy so I took the kids to the van to wait as Mark checked out and paid for the food. I started the van and flipped the radio off the crappy station Mark likes to country music. I asked myself quietly why I bother since country doesn't play country anymore so I never turn it on except for occasionally in the van. After the song that was playing got over, they played an older song. I just about fell out of my chair because this station rarely plays "older" songs and it was one I actually liked. Actually, one of the only Leann Rimes songs I actually like with exception to" One Way Ticket." The song was, "I Need You." I thought back to the karaoke days thinking that this was one I always wanted to "try" but never got around to it. About midway through the song I felt Samuel's presence and at the very same time, I realized that "I need you" was the last words he spoke to me. I couldn't believe it. I always know when things like these are "signs" or messages as opposed to just nothings because they always answer a question or a longing. In this case, Samuel sent me a song on the very day I wished he would have lived long enough to "write me a song." He answered that burning question of the month; does he still need me? And he did it all by using the last words he ever spoke to me on earth which lessens the blow of not only them being his last words, but the upcoming anniversary of his death. I realized something else during those moments. He is waiting on me. For all the years he was on earth, I found myself waiting on him. Waiting for someone to bring him to me after a surgery, or some other stupid thing. Waiting on him to get up hoping he would feel better. Waiting on him to be born and yes, waiting for him to die. I have waited on him his whole life. Now, he can't come to me. I have to go to him. And he is waiting......because he still needs me as much as I need him.
I have had a cold for the last two weeks and have felt pretty yucky at times. Samuel has been close to me for the past two weeks. Everyone knows it too. His latest thing is to flicker the lights wherever I am. One morning I was in the tub which I used to share with him. I could never take a bath alone when he was around. I was thinking about that after Anna had just gotten out and the light above me started flickering. No other lights in the house flickered, just that one. I looked up to see if I was seeing things and it flickered more. I told him hi and they flickered like they were very happy or laughing. I started to cry and immediately got the impression that he wasn't going to keep coming if it always made me cry. I asked him when I was going to see him again.....more flickering. Later that night, we had pizza which we could never have when he was here because it was so terrible for his gut. I thought about how we don't even think about that aspect of pizza anymore because we are used to him not being here. As everyone at the table was eating, the light flickered. Just over us, nowhere else. We all told him hi. And a couple nights ago, Anna was coloring at the table and the light flickered. She said, "Mom! Pooper's here!" All physical death did was set him free to be who he was supposed to be. I suspect he is here more than we even imagine. And, it helps immensely. There is only one way this can happen. Only one person who paved the way for it. Jesus. I am so thankful to Jesus for allowing Samuel to visit us. I am so thankful that every person here believes in Him and can receive things in the spirit that heal tremendous wounds in a way nothing else can. I literally get up every morning looking forward to what the Lord will do or show us on that day.
Messages and signs from God are all around us and I sure don't want to miss them. God is faithful. He hears my every thought, every longing, every question. He answers me. He doesn't leave me in the dark. There is absolutely no way I could have made it this far with His hands holding me up and His answers no matter how hard the truth was to take in. The best thing to come out of this past nearly nine months for me has been the presence of God in my life. He has revealed Himself to me over and over. He has met my needs in amazing ways, one of which was last month where I literally said, "Jesus, what have you done?" The need was big, the answer was big. I knew where it came from. I know I am not alone in my own private sorrow. God is right in the middle of it. Samuel comes to me when I need him as well. The light at the end of the tunnel is that which comes from Heaven, from Jesus. That is my hope. That is where my treasure is. I am so thankful tonight for my relationship with our Creator. It is amazing to think that He is so interested in every minute detail of my life. How did I ever live without this intimacy? Who wouldn't want it?
We have a new baby. Not the kind you are thinking
This is "Moses" the "Bush Woolly." Okay, really, he is a Bishon/Havanese cross. he is almost 12 weeks old. I have wanted a dog like this my whole life. God made a way for me to get him this past month and he reminds me so much of a dog my Mom had when I was still living with her. A little poodle/Bichon named Dude that had personality plus. Moses acts a lot like Dude. I know God picked him out for me because of that.
Even Bush Woolly got to go.
We took a little snow hike around the base areas of Crystal Mountain. As you can see, the snow is pretty deep. Step off the trail just slightly and you sunk to your waist. The kids didn't mind of course. The wind was blowing, trees were cracking, avalanche patrol was on the job as well. It was quite a busy place.
And so does Kaysha.
Bush Woolly liked the hike too and it was all great right up until his legs got full of snow balls. He didn't notice, but we did. Time to go. Next time he will have to stay home because suddenly everyone is into snow hiking. Absolutely gorgeous out! 
