I’ve been so busy lately. Mostly because I filled up my time with helping others, hoping that the pain of Owen’s angel day anniversary won’t hurt so bad. But what I feel isn’t protection … I feel like I’m barely staying above water. Should I have not volunteered for so much? Would it be easier to be crippled by hurt and pain or by the memories? Or maybe what I’m trying to protect myself from wouldn’t really hurt so bad but would rather be a reminder of how far we have come. Pain survived = strength.
Monday the 21st will be the 1 year mark of the last time I saw Owen smile. The last time I took a picture of him. The last time I touched his warm skin. Funny, I don’t know that I realized before writing that last sentence … after we found Owen unresponsive that night, I never felt his skin warm again. He was blue when I did CPR. He was still clammy when I kissed him goodbye before they transported him to Children’s Hospital of WI. He was cold for the five days we sat and waited for answers. And he was cool to the touch after his transplant surgery. Drained of blood and warmth. He was pale … so pale. He skin was cool, like we had taken a long walk on a cool autumn day.
Warmth – a symbol of life. Literally evidence that blood flows through your veins. Figuratively it’s what you feel from the one you love – the ones who love you. I never felt Owen’s warm skin, but I have felt the warmth of those who love me.
I’m thankful for those who have been by my side. THAT is what has gotten me here. Not the daily distractions. Not the jamming my schedule full – always taking on more just to eliminate the possibility that life might totally and utterly suck again. It’s the people in my life – my friends, my family, my kids, God. THEY are why I stand tall and why I can face this anniversary – like the warrior Owen has taught me to be.