There is nothing on this earth that could ever prepare a mother for the earthly loss of one of her children.
I never imagined burying one child, much less 2 of my sweet boys. After the heartache of delivering our son Talon who was much too small for this earth, I subconsciencely developed a false sense of security from the notion that I had reached the depth of my suffering in that area of my life. Then 9 years later my entire world was turned upside down when our three year old son, Truman, died from a tragic accident at our home. The best comparison I can give for a loss so deep is an amputation. A piece of me is missing for the rest of my life on this earth. I hold tight to the promise of eternity.
Grief is a long vicious roller coaster. I can’t begin to explain the depth of emotions I have experienced. What I can tell you is that in my darkest loneliest times when all I could do was cry His name, “Jesus,” He was there & made His presence know in the most gentle yet evident ways.
Grieving along side my other children is foreign territory. A path I would have never chosen for them to have to walk on either. Their pain is real and oh so evident in our daily lives. It is hard to watch them hurt and know it is something they must feel (something they need to feel).
Our family woke up August 2, 2012 to a normal day full of its typical tasks. Only to have a storm, bigger than we could have known, sweep in so quickly and so strongly destroying our lives as we knew it. Now we find ourselves rebuilding a new life together. We have cried together, prayed together and are learning to laugh again together. Moving beyond survival mode to living again.