Monday, May 3, 2010

One Moment at a time...

A few days after Sage passed away I asked my sister Jessica and her husband John to gather up all of his things and put them in his room. I also had them move all of Trey's things out of the room. I came home that night and there was no trace of Sage having ever been in our home. His things where stashed away. It took me a few months before I could even open the door and step foot in his room. Then one day I was finally able to go in and clean his room and organize all of his things.

This past year I have had no idea what to do with his room or his things. Some days I had to refrain from slapping up some dry wall over the entrance and pretend it never was there so I did not have to deal with it.

I have gone in the garage and grabbed an axe. I have wanted to kick down the door and rip his room, crib and mattress to shreds. Sometimes, I honestly thought about taking a match and lighting the room on fire. I realize that none of these are realistic thoughts so I have left the room as is. You can call me crazy until you have lost a child don't judge because you really have no clue how bad it hurts.

The past year I would go into his room really late at night after the other kids were sound asleep and sit in the rocking chair and cry. I have not opened the drawers to look at his things. I have not opened the closet to see where his things where hung. I just sit in the chair and cry. The morning he passed away my Mother asked if we wanted pictures of Spencer and I holding him for the last time. I said yes. My Mother took four pictures. I got the pictures printed. I have them sitting next to the rocking chair in a book. I pull them out and look at each one. I know this sounds strange but grief does that to you. It is my way of trying to accept that my baby is gone. Trying with all my heart to come to terms with the fact that this was Gods will for me. I hardly look at pictures of him living because those hurt too bad but instead I look at the other pictures because him being gone is my reality.

I remember the way I felt the day he left. I felt at peace and was able to let him go....I could feel with every fiber of my being that it was his time and that it was no accident. I knew that his earthly mission was over and he was simply being called home. I read this scripture a few days after he passed away...
D&C 6:23 Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?

I sit in my rocking chair and try and picture what that night was like for Sage. Who came for him? What is it like to be welcomed back home? Was he happy to leave or was he sad? Did he suffer or did he die peacefully? So many unanswered questions? The feeling in his room is so peaceful. I try to imagine all the Angels and Spirits that were in his room. It is only then that I can let the peace come and let go of the anger.

The past few months I have slowly been going through his room. I have taken it one item at a time. Just like I have to take this journey of grief one minute at a time, I have taken his room apart one item at a time.

I have been able to clean out the dresser and closet. Today I cleaned out his crib. The dresser under the crib and the drawers next to the crib. I took off the remaining crib bedding and removed the mattress. One of the hardest things to pack away was all of the clothes that still had tags on them. Things he never got to wear.

I felt the waves of grief roll in and crash down around me. I hit my knees holding onto the rails of the crib just sobbing. You know, the cry that comes that nearly almost kills you. You think during this kind of cry that at any moment your heart will finally stop beating because it hurts too bad. Some how you breathe and you get to the next moment.

Once again I sent up a small prayer and turned and walked away from the room. Wishing that I did not have to know or understand how badly this hurts. I went down stairs and made adorable little Kerr jars full of hard candy. A jar for each one of the kids. Then I thought...oh please Heavenly Father don't let one of them choke and die on a piece of hard candy. I decided not to give them the candy. We made Popsicles instead.


Cori White said...

Proud of you for being so strong in cleaning out Sages room and things.
It was a hard process but got to share it with my mom. That helped a little bit.
When I have been in Sages room I felt peaceful too. I am sure angels were there and just welcomed him to heaven. I dont think Heavenly Father would let babies suffer.. I feel the same way about Kyndal.. not sure if it was tragic or not.

Sharron said...

Crystal, thank you thank you, thank you for all that you have taught me over the last year. I have been taking a journey at your side.

It seems so unfair for such a young woman and mother to have to be the one to teach and bring an "old dog" like me along, but you were assigned so much more in this sacrifice you & Spencer were called on to make than you have probably realized.

So many time your posts have brought me to tears that I have bottled up for so many years. I am so sorry for the pain and anguish that you keep having to go through but I am also so grateful for all that you have taught me and the strength that you have shared with me and many others. It has brought a release in my life that is helping me move on and be a better wife, mother and grandmother.

I thank you from the bottom my heart.

The Reluctant Crunchy Mama said...

Many hugs to you, mama. You are amazing. I am crying reading this. I don't know how you do it. I will simply say that I admire you and you are one heck of an inspiring woman. Lots of hugs and love your way from MA.

Mariah said...

Such hard things this life has thrown at your family. You're strong. It looks like you're working through a lot. Sending lots of hugs your way.

Carolyn said...

You are so strong Crystal. That must have been so hard to clean Sage's room. Thank you for sharing your feelings. You have helped me learn so much.

Marie said...

Crying is not weakness. Since birth, it has been a sign that you are alive.