eternity

Mother's Day weekend was hard. It was a harsh reminder that I was supposed to be a mom. I am a mom. Owen made me one, and no other person will ever be able to do that. But it's completely different. My reality is that my baby died. Saying those words isn't getting any easier. People say that time will heal, but I'm not convinced... When does it get easier? I can't imagine anything ever hurting as bad as this. Knowing that the pain will never stop is difficult. I will never stop missing him.

I find that doing new things (or things for the first time since having Owen) are really hard. Going for a jog was hard at first... I should be using my jogging stroller. Running errands is hard. I feel like I'm surrounded by moms with baby boys whenever I go out. Last week I went to visit my parents for a few days in Florida. Flying on a plane was hard. I thought that the next time I would be on a plane, I would have a baby with me. Going to the beach for the first time was really hard. I pictured holding Owen close, feeling the ocean breeze, seeing him in his cute bathing suit, and taking a million pictures of his first beach trip. Eating at restaurants surrounded by families, grocery shopping, you name it. It's all hard.

Brian and I spent Mother's Day weekend in the mountains for a little get away. We stayed at a cute bed & breakfast in Asheville. While sitting on the front porch for cocktail hour, visiting with other couples, we were asked if we had any children. It caught me off guard, and I answered "no." I felt sick to my stomach saying it out loud. It just wasn't the time to go into it. These other couples were celebrating honeymoons and anniversaries. We didn't want to dampen the mood. We seemed happy and normal on the outside, but we were hurting so badly on the inside. It made me realize for the first time that this simple and frequently asked question will forever be a painful one.

We spent several hours on Sunday at the spa. The perfect way to try to relax... When I went in for my massage, the massage therapist asked if I had been pregnant in the past year. I told her I had a baby in February. I started to say, "he..." but I stopped. I wasn't going into it with her. She asked if I was nursing, and I said no. I felt instantly judged. She asked if I had a boy or a girl, and I said a boy. She then said, "Aren't little boys the best? I just love my son..." I fought back tears, smiled, and agreed. Thank goodness the questions stopped after that. She then gave me a mimosa and a rose in celebration of Mother's Day. I was flooded with so many mixed emotions. I was glad to be recognized as a mother, and I feel so honored to be Owen's mom, but I'm also filled with such sadness.

When asked what the occasion was for our trip, we said it was just a little getaway... That was partly true. But the other part was that we were there to finally spread Owen's ashes. On our drive up, to NC, I turned around to grab something out of my purse and noticed his ashes in the back. I had a quick moment where I felt like I couldn't breathe out of disbelief because of what were were about to do. I wanted so badly for Owen to be riding in his car seat, looking out the window, on his way to the mountains for the first time for a fun little trip as a family of three.

When Owen died, we knew we didn't want his body buried in some random cemetery in Atlanta that had no meaning to us. We aren't from Georgia, and we don't really have any ties here. It is our home for now, and it is special because this is where Owen lived, but burying him here didn't feel right. When Brian suggested spreading his ashes on top of Bald Mountain, I knew that was what we should do. His family has had a cabin on the mountain for years, and he grew up going to the Bald as a child. His grandfather's ashes were spread there, and it's a special place to both of us We have many memories visiting over the years. Even though it felt right, it was something I was completely dreading... I can't even begin to tell you how emotional it was. It was like he had died all over again. It felt so final.
It was a beautiful day though. I imagined Owen looking down from heaven at us with his big eyes and dimple chin, smiling.

This is yet another place where we will be reminded of Owen. Hiking up to the Bald has a whole new meaning to us now.
Owen has made me realize how comfortable I've been in my life this side of heaven. I have experienced pain, loss, and disappointment, but nothing to this effect. Not only was I comfortable here, but when I thought of heaven, it gave me great anxiety. The concept of "forever" was too much for me to comprehend. Heaven has become a much more real place now that Owen is there. I long for it. I long for my heartache and emptiness to go away. And I know it will when I get there. I relate so much to what Nancy Guthrie writes in her book Holding On To Hope"I have come to the place where I believe a yearning for heaven is one of the purposes and one of the privileges of suffering and of losing someone you love. I never had that yearning, before, but I do now. You see, a piece of me is there... I now see in a much fuller way that this life is just a shadow of our real life-- of eternal life in the presence of God."

9 comments:

  1. Amen and come, Lord Jesus. My momma heart aches for your momma heart like I didn't know was possible. I can't lighten your burden one iota, but I do carry it with you. The Son of Man will make all things new. Eyes to the horizon. He is on the move.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Allison, I have read each of your post during this journey and felt the pain, emptiness and all those emotions which come with loss. My daughter lost her first child at 1 yr. due to a hole in his heart, watching her go through that pain was so difficult and I almost lost her. Then six years ago I lost my husband and 2 weeks later our youngest son. He was only 36 yrs old and left a wife and 3 yr old son behind. I look back now at the pain and suffering I went though which I will never forget, but I had God working in my life though my church family. Without them and good friends I would not have made it this far. I also heard time would heal the pain, but I can tell you the loss and pain will never go away you only find a way to deal with it and cherish the memories you had with precious Owen. I too think about heaven much more and talk to each of them often, can't wait to get there.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thank you Allison for a glimpse into your weekend and the pain and ache that remains and has tinted your heart. It's so real and ever present. I can remember after David's death how I longed for Mom to "feel" happy again. Grief can be so lonely and hard. I pray for you so often as you walk this road. Look each day for the way God is at work loving you and giving you glimmers of hope. You and Brian are so precious to us.

    ReplyDelete
  4. What a beautiful place; I look forward to the day when you can show it to me. I see Owen, you, and Brian, everywhere I look, even though I'm far away. The driver we had from London to Brighton asked us if we had any grandchildren. I told him about Owen and afterwards Dad proudly said, "yes . . . we have two grandsons. Praying for your tender and grieving heart.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Allison, I'm not sure we've ever spoken, but we share a few mutual friends. My heart aches for you in a way I can't explain. This season of your life seems impossible just to read about and I cannot even begin to imagine how you and Brian and your families feel each day. But I want to say thank you. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for still praising and leaning on God. Though you may feel so weak, I think anyone reading your story will agree you are so strong. I will continue to pray and continue to give thanks to Our Father for your growing testimony...you and Brian are amazing.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Reading your words here simply causes my heart to hurt...I'm so very sorry for the loss you and your husband have suffered. It makes me smile, however to glance at the sidebar here and to see the two of you smiling as you hold Owen. What a blessing that is.. to be reminded of the joy that he brought to your lives. I pray that memory envelopes your souls every day.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Still aching for you and thinking of you daily. Your words are so beautiful and the most loving and honorable tribute to that sweet, gorgeous, warrior boy!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Allison, I haven't stopped praying for you and your family. I knew that Mother's Day would be an especially difficult day and was praying for you often. You are so brave in openly sharing the deepest places of your heart. You continue to glorify God even during these hard, hard days and your faith is inspiring to all of us that know you! You are a GREAT Mom!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Thank you for sharing your lives and Owen's story. Because of your family, I am learning what it means to pray without ceasing and to carry one another's burdens. Our hearts ache for you and we are still praying for you.

    ReplyDelete