After our weekly trip to Sam's Park this morning I came to a realization. I hate leaving there.
I hate that feeling like I am leaving him behind for the wolves to raise.
I leave him every week.
I leave his body behind and hope that I'll make it the next week.
I leave his "things" behind and hope the animals or bitter bystanders or groundskeepers don't mess with it.
I leave with the feeling that I've left my son with a stranger.
I leave feeling like I have to choose between my children.
Between the living and the dead.
A mom should never have to choose one child/children over another. But that is what I'm asked to do every single day of my life.
I have to choose my living children or my dead child.
And every day I breathe.
I'm not sure why. I don't know if I am actually making that decision or not. I don't know what would happen if I did make that decision.
Would I see my son?
Would I be damned to hell for all eternity?
Would I or my family be punished by some higher being?
Would nothing happen? Would I placed in my wall next to my son's body for my living children to visit and life moves on?
I don't know. And that scares me. I don't know where my son is and I don't know why I continue to breathe.
I'm caught in a realm that demands both the living and the dead.
I need Faith's Lodge more now than I think the last time we were there. I need it's comforts, warmth, community, peace, and hope. We are going as a family this time and I think that will be a different experience than when we went just the two of us. My oldest is looking forward to it most; she's counting down the days.
Feelings of the unknown have cradled my grief and made it hard to handle. I've never been in this place before, the unknown. I have been given the reality check again. Control is not in my favor. Control has always been in my favor. I've always gotten a way around things and made them compromise with my demands. Grief has a handle on these and is holding tight.
After all of this, I'm left with guilt.
Guilt that I have chosen my living children over my dead. Guilt that I missed something in this calculated plan and somehow let grief slip in. Guilt that I am absent from reality because I'm trying to figure out how to navigate through this realm.