I’m in the Wondering Phase now. I knew this day would come, I’ve dreaded it for a long time, but I think I have to say I’m officially here. It sucks.
When Paul first died, I could imagine him still being alive. I knew the sound of his voice, the feel of his bald head, and I knew all his funny expressions. I knew his “Yeah, baby!” expression with his hands in the double gun position. I could predict his reaction to things, what movies he would’ve wanted to see, what he would’ve laughed at, and when he would’ve cuddled up with me on the couch, interrupting one of my Sunday-afternoon naps.
I knew who his friends were, his classmates, his teacher. I even knew who was going to be Paul’s first-grade teacher and could imagine him strolling along the halls… one ordinary kid among many, sneaking to step out of line when the teacher wasn’t looking.
At his last birthday, Paul had a Dale, Jr. cake, and declared that next year, he’d choose Jimmie Johnson, so when what would’ve been his 7th birthday rolled around, it was easy to imagine him licking all the icing off the big 48 piece.
It was easy to imagine he was just gone for a little while, that he’d be back soon. It was easy to expect him to come home and re-enter the tangled mix of three boys wrestling on our king-sized bed.
It’s not that easy anymore.
What would two years have done to him? How much would he have grown? How would his hair have filled in…. straight and blonde, or wavy and a little dark? What friends would he have made in 2nd grade, and who would his 3rd grade teacher be? Would he still be as much of a NASCAR nut or would he have traded in his wheels for a baseball glove? Would he have been as crazy about Guitar Hero as his brothers? Would he still be a ham in all the church choir performances, or would he have grown into being to “cool” for such things? Would he still be as stubborn and persistent when he was told “no”? Would he still love his Maw Maw’s fried chicken and gray pudding (gravy) and ask for pink meat (ham) in his lunch? Which restaurant chicken strips would he be fixated on by now?
What would 8-year-old Paul be like?
All I can do now is wonder….
3 comments:
Dearest Leigh...
I so wish you didn't have to wonder these things. I am praying for you, my friend.
Love, Mindy
I don't have any words that would help one bit, but I wonder too...
J
i don't know you but i wish crying with you would somehow help. i always cry when i read your blog. i always feel sad, and then mad that this even happened, and then ask why and then end up just trying to trust in God more and be close to Him.
i believe someday, you won't have to wonder anymore. i know that doesn't help the current heartbreak. but i do believe it.
Post a Comment