I’ve been pretty sick since last Sunday night — hubby too — coughing — congestion — coughing — sore throat — coughing — body-wracking coughing — headache, the works — not fun. And, it’s been hard on the dog too since we’re no fun at all like this.
But, I didn’t want to make an excuse not to write in my blog. Forgive me if the writing is disjointed and feverish, however. That I WILL blame on sickness. 😉 Mostly what I’ve been doing in this state of near death is wish to go to Heaven.
I have often felt like turning to hubby and saying, “Let’s go visit Amber,” in this miserable state. Of course, I know that isn’t going to happen yet, and that’s ok. I know there are things we have left to do. But, it sure is tempting sometimes, especially when you’re miserable.
But, then I remember how miserable Amber used to be when she was sick. She couldn’t get out of bed to throw up in the toilet. She had to cry out and spit in a plastic tub and maybe get it on herself. And, I know, if she were here now, she’d be miserable and sick. So, I don’t wish that on her — no way.
Every March she would get pretty sick. Last March was the final one I guess. We had all gotten so used to it that I don’t think we dreamed it would be the last, that one more sickness would be the final straw. I hate thinking about the losing — the saying goodbye — the “oh no!” punch in the gut that I felt last March when she failed to respond to the nurse in the ER.
I wish I could get the images out of my head of those shocking paddles being used on her, and the sight of that heartbeat going flat. I wish I could stop those memories from coming back to me every day.
Sorry, didn’t mean to get depressing. In some ways, it was so right that we were there with her. It was right and good that I feel like I escorted her into the arms of the angels, like I’d been there for every moment in her life. Part of me was devastated and the other part was thinking, “no more doctors, no more surgeries, no more pain and no more limitation for you, sweet Amber. Go and be free.”
As loving and unselfish as that is — I still have the selfish part that wants her here to hold and tuck into bed. But you see, when I feel like that, I’m only remembering the good things, not the hard things. And, there were so many hard things. She finally escaped the difficulties of this life. I had the best daughter in the world, in my mind, a girl who was still innocent at 23, still pure of heart and childlike, still vulnerable and sweet.
I suppose I should stop now before I break down crying all over my laptop. I have peace about her, and am thankful for that. I know she’s safe and happy and whole. I just long to be with her. The world doesn’t seem like it can go on without her. But, somehow it does. God’s still here with me. And, he’s with her. So, in some ways, we’re still together. I do like that.
So, here I am, coughing and typing and remembering. The best therapy for me is writing. It’s how I get the feelings from being bottled up and painful to flowing out and healing. It’s my best way of communication and I’m thankful I have it. So, if you read something I’ve written and think it’s too real or scary (like me wanting to go to Heaven now), don’t worry. I’m just expressing things so that they don’t hide in dark corners in my mind. I will be ready for Heaven when my time comes, but until then, I’ll just keep writing. Seems like I’ll be writing about Amber for the rest of my days. In some ways, that will also help her live on here and help people who never knew her to discover the wonder that God made when he made her.
Thanks for reading. God bless you. Grace and peace to all.