Friday, January 22, 2016


One of our preschool students died this week.

She was in kindergarten now, but still, she was still one of our preschool students.

I wasn't her teacher but last year I subbed as an aide on Mondays in her class.    I spent a lot of time with her those days.   She liked to talk and tell stories and sit by the teacher and give hugs.    Exactly the things I like to be on the other end of.  

The funeral was today.  

That mother.   Oh my dear sweet Lord, that mother.  

I had a dream last Saturday that my Adam went on a camping trip and went canoeing, hit some wild water, fell out, hit his head and died.   I watched him die and then I was transported to a funeral home where someone was asking what I wanted to do about things like caskets and flowers.   In that dream, in my sleep, I felt like someone had reached in a ripped out my whole heart and, THANK YOU JESUS, I woke up in a cold sweat trying to catch my breath and crying.

I woke up.  

I woke up.  

But I felt it.   I know it wasn't real, but I felt it.   I hope to everything that is good and holy that I never ever feel it again.

That mother.   She will feel it forever and there is nothing I can do for her.   Nothing anyone can do for her to take that raw ache away.  

How do you go on after something like that?  

I hope I never have to figure that out.  

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