Today I doddle. Not sure where I am headed ...floppy and distracted. I am searching for Phoebe. I want her home here with me. Its Friday night, she may not have been home anyway, but still I want her near me. I'm angry with her tonight too ...have a few things I'd like to clarify. She left me with quite a bit of debris, sorrow. She left me with sad siblings. By usual standards ...we are just phenomenally moving through this tragedy, or settling into it! In tact, fulfilling our obligations, getting by. We get out of bed and then back in at the end of a long day! We should be happy to know we are doing so well. Then why aren't we? Because we are all still waiting for Phoebe to come home. She isn't, we know. On the other hand, we know she already has ...gone home that is ...to God.
Tonight, just as the sun set, I walked with our two youngest. We held hands start to finish. My seven year old cried the whole way, directing his younger sister not to go here or there, his worry so apparent. I told him she was okay, he needn't worry. " I worry about everything now ...ever since the day Phoebe died." We talked all about Phoebe and imagined her walking next to us. He remembered how Phoebe taught him to ride his bike. I see it too. I watched as she encouraged and challenged him. "Try it again Owen, you can do this!" She picked out his bike for his birthday ...he remembered that too. He thought about a few times he wasn't nice to Phoebe, and I reminded him of so many times when he was! He thought about the bad splinter I had to remove recently from his foot. Phoebe heard him crying and came to hold his hand and soothe him, telling him that mom wasn't trying to hurt him and if he just squeezed her hand it wouldn't hurt so much. I can see her so clearly now as she ushered everyone out of the room so there would be no distractions. She had calmed Owen, but also me. How does a life just end? Poof, and she was gone. She had asked me to leave my two little one's with her that morning, offering to help me out. But a friend awaited them at the soccer field. If she had been able to give that morning would she still be here? Everything becomes a question of "if".
We prayed about Phoebe and asked God to heal our hurting hearts and help Owen to not worry so much anymore. I asked him if he wanted to add anything. "Please God, make sure Phoebe is safe in heaven." My heart hurts, torn and rugged, from losing her. But my heart swells and rises to this plea from a little boy. Surely God will hear him, and surely God will heal him. Won't He?
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace, Amen.
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