"God, please let Isaiah know how much I love him. Right away, I want him to know." I was the questions and the answers in a one sided conversation, unsure on who I was even speaking to sometimes. God, myself, my son. It didn't matter. My logic wrote the lyrics as my emotions penned the instrumentals; and day after day I became lost in the music...heartfelt gratitude for new life entrusted to me, coupled with a Mama's protective prayers for her boy.
I'm not sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or the realization of how precious your life was due to the early on complications. Maybe it was God's way of creating an inseparable bond before your first breath was breathed because He knew your days were numbered. Maybe it was His way of preparing me for so many more out loud, emotion filled conversations that He knew we would all be a part of in the months to come.
All I know is that I would end those conversations with swollen eyes, exhaling all of the built up worries, and a "Mama's Mans, I'll see you so soon. If you don't know who I am once you're here, just look for the lady crying. That's sure to be me."
And I did. I held you close and I spoke gentle assurances, letting you know that you were safe. I squeezed close my eyes as your body melted in my arms. You knew me. Overcome with feelings of joy and relief, tears escaped my eyes as soft sobs prompted nurses to ask if I was alright.
"He's everything I prayed for. Everything. He knows me, he REALLY knows me." I said aloud.
Over the past four years, I have prayed for much of the same...the outcomes may be a little different, but the prayers have remained. I still plead with God to see your face, though I know it will only be in the form of a hazy dream. And I still hold out hope that you know me. Though, I'm aware that I'll have to wait to find out.
Sadly, my dreams don't allow an escape from reality and your death is always imminent before I wake, jolting me upright much like the night I heard my name being frantically screamed from the other room.
I've sat frozen watching friends throw you from a balcony. I've been held back by people who won't allow me to jump in the water to save you. I've frantically clawed at blankets that were suffocating you to no avail. I've dug through the mud, your body sinking deeper every time I thought I had a grip.
Logically, I know I couldn't save you that night. But a protective Mama and logic don't coincide. There's a part of me that will always feel like I failed you. And while it hurts to live with the guilt, warranted or not, it would be worse to live without it.
Without it, I wouldn't be reassured of how fiercely I loved you. And then I wouldn't decide that our bond was something even death could not break.
So while I subconsciously dream of your perfect face, if only for a moment before you slip away from this Earth once again...I consciously dream of the day you melt into my arms and say "I know you Mama. I REALLY know you."
Heaven has been that much brighter for 4 years.
I'm one year closer to holding you close.
No comments:
Post a Comment