What have we become...

I am transfixed,
unable to speak, almost unable to breath...
I look at a picture of a 5 year old girl with a smile like Ani's,
and I read.
And I cannot believe.
And I cannot find the answer to my question.
How could someone do this?
To a child?
Intentionally?
My heart stops when it is reported that the mother is complicit.
And I cannot find the words to apologize to God for we humans.
I pray quickly that she be welcomed into the arms of our Savior,
and introduced to Nate so they can play together.
After that, I can allow myself to cry.
Cry for our world that will no longer see that smile.
Cry for our world, that certainly heinous things had been done to her before death.
Cry for us.
Cry for me, who finds it so, so difficult to believe that they should be saved too.

It takes effort.

It takes effort to "live from day to day".
It takes effort to "rejoice in the small things".

It's been difficult, "living from day to day". I would never have expected that trying to live without expectations, without "milestones in life", would be so difficult and stressful. It's a mantra and prayer that you hear, rejoice in all things, live for now, listen to God's words and promptings, and the future will unfold. Just think about that, could you toss out your calendar right now, what with all the upcoming graduations, parties, trips, etc? It's not easy, and perhaps it's my personality that needs to have things to work towards, things to expect.

In memory of...

It's my turn this year to buy the memorial ornament for our tree. Last year it was my turn to donate to a charity in memory of Nate. I wrote "In memory of Nathaniel Prindle" in the memo field of the check. Looking for an ornament brings that difficult time back to me.

"In memory of...", how incredibly difficult it is to get your hand to write those words, followed by the name of someone precious to you.
"In memory of...", doesn't give justice to the fact that your memory is of a laughing, crying, breathing human being, not just a photo snapshot in your heart.
"In memory of...", how the very fibers of your soul fight against writing these words.
"In memory of...", how the thought of doing just one thing differently in your past can give a jolt of excitement, as if the past can be undone with an idea.
"In memory of...", how very odd it feels to have a little boy so alive and active in your head and heart, though forever paused at 2.5 years old.

Pianos

I had a real interesting "conversation" with Ani a week or two ago, and just thought of it again now. I was reading a story, and had Enya's "Watermark" on the iPod in the background. I stopped reading, and told her to listen to the piano playing. I explained how the left hand generally played the lower notes, while the right hand generally played the higher notes. I told her that each hand tells a piece of the "story" that the piano player wants to tell. Maybe the left hand plays "scary" notes, and the right hand plays "exciting" notes, but the combination of the two different stories came together to make one bigger story. While I was telling her this, she had this fascinating wry smile, and was looking up and away like she was thinking about what I was saying, and trying to "actively listen" to the piano. It was so cool. Nothing I said was funny, nor did I speak with a goofy voice, but she smiled nonetheless.

Sometimes I google Annika or Nate

I found an article that described (attempted to, anyway) the events during the tornado. It said that Nate was blown out of my arms. He wasn't. He was maybe 8 feet from me when the tornado hit. This is one of the things I struggle with so much. I picked which child to try to help first (yes, I understand you can't do two things at once). I turned to Ani after I saw the tornado and yelled basement and "shooed" her towards Christy and the basement door. I then turned to go to Nate, and that's when the tornado hit. I never got to him. I'm pretty sure had I gone to Nate first, we both probably would have died, and what happened to Christy and Ani would be the same. Nate and I were side by side at the TV watching the weather news. He was on my right. I turned to my left to look out the back window, then went to my left to go around the couch and look out the front window. Nate turned to his right to go around the couch the other way. How I wish he would have followed me in my direction.

After reading the article, I almost wish he was blown from my arms, because then at least I would have been in the act of protecting him. What haunts me is the last image of both children in my mind before the tornado. My last image of Nate is "over there" looking out the window. My last image of Ani is that of terror. She was terrified, her face was scrunched up, and her arms were tight up against her body and her hands in fists. God, if nothing else, let Ani tell me she feels safe with me now, and she's not scared.

Sometimes, when I hear Mark Shultz's song "He's my son" (about a boy with a fatal disease), I wonder how I would have handled Nate's death differently if he were to have died in a different way or different time. Though I know without a doubt that he loved us, he never got to say it. Would I feel differently if he had died in my arms? If I had a chance to say "I love you, goodbye until we meet again"? I say it every night, and when I'm in the car.

Times during the day.

There are times during the day when my grief over the loss of Nate or the injury to Ani causes me to kind of lose my footing in this life. I look around and wonder what's going on, or what am I supposed to do, and it's scary.

Songs I made up for the kids' birth, to save the memory.

Ani:
Oh Annika, sweet Annika.
Oh, Ani, Ani,
We love Annika.

Nate:
Oh baby Nate,
my baby Nate,
I think it's great,
you're here with us.

Sorry I can't put the melodies here.

Trying to not get frustrated with Ani

Ani had the worst night ever last Saturday night. Her stomach kept her up for a couple hours, then woke her up every hour after that. I get angry and frustrated with what is happening to her, and it spills over into a little frustration with her. Of course, no sleep tends to factor into this frustration. I really, really try to not become frustrated with Ani.
I kept asking "God, with all else that has been denied Ani, and taken away from her, don't let pain be the only thing given _to_ her".
I should really try to cut down on my caffeine intake during the day as well. It doesn't prevent me from getting to sleep, but it can't be doing me any good either.