Today after I dropped off Tommy at school I was driving and put in a CD that had some of the music from Riley's memorial on it. I really do like the song, but it brought me right back to how I was feeling that day. There is a CD with orchestra music that is also in the car, and I can't listen to that without getting upset. It was the music I always played for Riley in the car when he would start to cry.
I just remember the day feeling so surreal. Who can ever imagine having to attend their children's funeral? I still can't fully fathom everything that happened, and little moments during the day will still overwhelm me with grief. I just feel like I should have been there, I should have stopped this from happening some how and that kills me.
The day of the funeral, I feel I only made it through by the grace of God. In my time of desperate need, a good friend from high school was there for me. Her support and prayers I know helped me function and keep looking up. As we walked out of the room in the back into the sanctuary, I remember thinking, "this isn't happening". Holding my husband's hand, we took our seats to say our goodbyes to our beloved son. I listened to the words of the pastor, reading off the family names. Then hearing my parents names, both passed away. That wrenched my heart.
I remember being so proud of my dear husband to be able to speak in front of the crowd the words from his heart. I silently urged him on, praying for Josh to have the strength and focus to do as he wanted to do.
Watching the slide show was like slow pinpricks deep into my heart. I loved those pictures, but to see them again was so hard. My baby is gone. I put the slide show together, and I was proud of myself for being able to accomplish that.
The remainder of the service went on like a slow blur. I held on to Josh, and was so thankful for my aunt being by my other side.
Before I knew it, it was over. The pastor walked down to shake our hands, and I was confused. Josh held my hand as we were led out into the front vestibule. I could hear Elvis singing Amazing Grace. I felt dead inside. I felt so light headed, I thought I was going to faint. I remember looking across the room and seeing a couch. My entire goal was to make it to the couch and sit down. But I never made it there. I was not prepared for what was going to happen next. Everything I was avoiding during the week culminated into an onslaught for that next hour. No one told me that we would be lined up for people to address us on their way out. I kept thinking it was like our wedding. But on the EXTREME opposite end of the scale. No happy hugs or well wishes. Instead countless sorrowful hugs and "I'm so sorry for you" a hundred times.
Not that I am not thankful for every one's support, I was just not prepared for this.
As the line formed and people continued on, I think at one point I said, "Next..." to someone I didn't know. Not very tasteful, I know, but I thought it was slightly humorous.
I was very overwhelmed with all the love and support, and my emotions let loose on a few people. I felt so drained, empty. This milestone now passed, what next?
I still feel that way. The days are zooming by, and I don't know what to do next.
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