Three Months
Tomorrow will be three months since we lost our sweet boy. Time has seemed suspended in some ways. The days since Lacy's death have been quiet. I turned 60 last week. Kenny will celebrate a birthday next month.
Two weeks ago, I returned to work. I have good days and hard days, but I don't have terrible days. I feel like an observer to my own life at times. I spend time every week thinking about Lacy, thanking God for the gift of our son, and remembering our journey together. There are of course joyful and sobering memories. Happy and difficult times come to mind. Kenny and I share these memories with each other and with friends and colleagues. We laugh and cry together. We miss our son in a way that is deep and painful. There is still an emptiness in our family, one that will never completely be filled, but a wound that will heal with a scar.
When Lacy died, Kenny and I both felt the same way. This was not what we dreaded the most. We had prayed for mercy for our son and for ourselves when Lacy was diagnosed with Huntington's Disease. We dreaded walking with Lacy through more decline, and harder times. Lacy was already wheelchair bound, in diapers, and experiencing major psychiatric symptoms. He hated being disabled, and hated not having control over where he went and what he did. God in His mercy released Lacy from that bondage.
In a dream between deep sleep and wakefulness this summer, I had a vision of Jesus coming to our boy that early morning and inviting him to come with Him to heaven. Lacy rubbed his hands together and said yes. Whether that is a true vision of the way Lacy's passing came to be, I don't know. I know he is safe in the arms of Jesus now.
Kenny and I have no doubt at all that we will see our son again. We know where he is and we are assured of this truth. Even though we are cut off from him physically, we have a connection through Jesus. We love Lacy, and he loves us. We will one day be together again.
There is a release for us as well. We no longer carry a burden of worry for our son. Gone is the feeling that the "other shoe" will drop any time. We are mindful that God is re-creating our lives for us, and preparing us for whatever is next. We are allowing ourselves to rest from the constant battle we waged for so many years. There is no "next" yet.
We are so grateful for God's gift of Lacy, for our friends and colleagues, for faith that sustains us and gives us peace.
Two weeks ago, I returned to work. I have good days and hard days, but I don't have terrible days. I feel like an observer to my own life at times. I spend time every week thinking about Lacy, thanking God for the gift of our son, and remembering our journey together. There are of course joyful and sobering memories. Happy and difficult times come to mind. Kenny and I share these memories with each other and with friends and colleagues. We laugh and cry together. We miss our son in a way that is deep and painful. There is still an emptiness in our family, one that will never completely be filled, but a wound that will heal with a scar.
When Lacy died, Kenny and I both felt the same way. This was not what we dreaded the most. We had prayed for mercy for our son and for ourselves when Lacy was diagnosed with Huntington's Disease. We dreaded walking with Lacy through more decline, and harder times. Lacy was already wheelchair bound, in diapers, and experiencing major psychiatric symptoms. He hated being disabled, and hated not having control over where he went and what he did. God in His mercy released Lacy from that bondage.
In a dream between deep sleep and wakefulness this summer, I had a vision of Jesus coming to our boy that early morning and inviting him to come with Him to heaven. Lacy rubbed his hands together and said yes. Whether that is a true vision of the way Lacy's passing came to be, I don't know. I know he is safe in the arms of Jesus now.
Kenny and I have no doubt at all that we will see our son again. We know where he is and we are assured of this truth. Even though we are cut off from him physically, we have a connection through Jesus. We love Lacy, and he loves us. We will one day be together again.
There is a release for us as well. We no longer carry a burden of worry for our son. Gone is the feeling that the "other shoe" will drop any time. We are mindful that God is re-creating our lives for us, and preparing us for whatever is next. We are allowing ourselves to rest from the constant battle we waged for so many years. There is no "next" yet.
We are so grateful for God's gift of Lacy, for our friends and colleagues, for faith that sustains us and gives us peace.
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