May the train take you...

I look at your train, my son,
Percy has a permanent smile.
If only he knew what happened to one of his fans,
His fire inside would falter and suffer, as mine has.
The sight of it,
The sound of it,
My son, I can close my eyes and hear you play.
My son, I remember changing all the batteries,
as I performed that small service for you.
Oh how I wish God's train could take you back here,
and let me serve you again.
Percy would certainly rust, crying the tears of our loss.
Nate, I don't always cry with memories of you,
just most of the time.
My son, I cry for myself, for mommy, for Ani, for this world.
Even if it were never to have come to pass,
I ask God to show me how you would have turned out here on Earth.
How tall you would have been,
How loving you would have been,
How many puzzles you would have finished.
My son, the greatest puzzle I think,
is how we affect each other,
how we enrich each other.
As a parent, that puzzle is ever so more complicated.
I don't know how heaven works,
but come to me on the station when my train arrives.
Percy is going to bring me, with a smile.

Parents: Pray

Pray, pray, you parents all.
Pray you keep them,
Pray you hold them,
Pray they grow old.
Listen, talk, you parents all.
You know them,
You've seen them,
But who are they in their own words?
Protect them, release them, you parents all.
Keep them safe,
Let them explore,
Enrich them, let them enrich you, and keep no score.

Beautiful days

Beautiful days, lost
Gone, behind, beloved.
Does the horizon hide beauty from me now?
My heart has trouble seeing a few days or even hours ahead.
At least I had beauty...is that how I should cope?
How should my memories color my future experiences?

The basement can be a scary place

I went to the basement to get Christmas stuff (lights, decorations, etc), and I started seeing all the stuff from the old house.  You just can't stop yourself from saying:  "Look at this, why is this unbroken when my son was taken?", "Why is this just scratched when my daughter is so injured?".  It's paralyzing.  There are no answers to "why", and ultimately the question is useless.  What value are these things?  All of this I would give away to have my daughter speak, or my son to throw me a ball.

Shopping with leaden legs...

I just went shopping for Christy's birthday present, and for presents to celebrate Nate's birthday.  We celebrate Nate's birthday by buying presents, wrapping them, then at the party we all open them to show each other.  After that we donate the toys to Toys for Tots.  It was _SO_ hard to walk into Target.  I had to force myself along.  So hard to think of age relevant toys for Nate's personality.  Nothing within me can accept that my little boy is gone from my sight.

This picture is alive...

I was emptying out a box in the spare bedroom upstairs this past weekend and came across some stuff from before the tornado. I found the documentation we received when Nate was born, and I found some art from Ani. Christy labeled the artwork with what Ani called the pictures. The titles are: "A ghost witch", "A ghost board", "A little fella", "A big little fella", "Mommy", and "Daddy". The "portrait" of me stopped me cold. What I saw was not just a 4 year olds' stick drawing where the eyes are crooked, and my hairline was exaggerated, it is ME. I had seen this drawing before, but hadn't struck me as deeply as it does now. As it is, I can get _reactions_ from Ani on jokes, pain, etc., but I do not have a window into her opinions, her desires, or her imagination. I also have no window into her love for us. Here is a picture where I can truly, and literally see myself through my daughter's mind's eye. This picture literally seems alive to me, as I am alive in this world. When I look at it, I see a representation of myself that no camera could possibly capture. It is priceless, and a treasure. I think I'll frame it.

My poor Ani

As I think about Ani before the tornado, I get so hung up on all the things that she used to do for fun. All those things have been stripped from her. And replaced with what? With pain? Is that to be Ani's future? God, give peace of body to Ani, through your Holy Spirit and/or prompting us and the doctors to figure out the correct meds to eliminate her seizures and calm her muscles. God, she's still an innocent, she really does deserve to have these things. She's done nothing wrong. God, help reduce this anger I feel sometimes and let me just _be_ with Ani. To experience her presence, her warmth. Allow me to express my love to her in a way that she understand, and transcends her inequities and pain.

I bristle against this reality

How wrong is this reality, that I rejoice in the fact that I had a dream about my son.