I never knew loss, real loss, until that day.
It changed everything. The way we see the world. The way a lyric falls on our ears. And the way that words fall from our lips. It was one of those searing, scarring, shaping things that leaves a mark forever.
Kingston, love, you're written in my heart. You have marked us forever. And so marked all the world. And I wish you were here.
But the tricky thing is that I'm not sure if I can say words like 'should.' To my mind when allowed to make its own decisions, should is a certainty. A heart that should have beat. Feet that should have touched the sand and the waves and spread dirt on our tile floors. A laugh that should have sounded. A life that should have shined. And up to me, should is certainly true.
You should have.
But it's not up to me. So few things are. And frankly, the world is better for it. It would be far too serious and too safe if all of life were mine to choose. And so how can I say 'should?'
A few months ago, He asked me to believe. To believe that He could write a better love story than this. And I'm finding that in all of life, I really believe He does it better. He writes it better than I do. My heart, my family, love, loss and hope. He writes life better than I do. He was the original Author of it.
But there are some moments when I wish that I could grab the pen. And cross out the lines that break my heart and run my makeup and confound my understanding. Like the day we lost you, love. I'd like a revision there.
I'd like you toddling around in the halls. I'd like to have cheered and hugged and celebrated your first stumbled steps. I'd like to see if you would be brave around our big dog or what you would look like when you were concentrating and trying hard. Your mommy used to stick her tongue out when she was little and trying hard - I'd like to have seen if you did that too.
And more than anything I wanted to see you see the world. I wanted to rediscover things through your eyes. And I really wanted to take you driving over the ocean. It's written in my soul and after all of the work morning drives you joined us on, I dreamed that it would be in yours too.
But I am not the Author. I don't hold the pen that writes the days and there are some things that I will never know. Like why we didn't get to keep you, sweet boy. You had the very best parents in the whole world just waiting for you. And today, it doesn't seem very fair. And today, I'd like to make some edits. And today, I wish you were here.
But I didn't write it and 'should' is not certain and in fact 'should' is not true. He knew all along, from the beginning of time that those 'shoulds' were not a part of the story. That there was a greater story. And He knew what your life would say. And though it hurts beyond words - all is as it should be.
But somehow, love, I miss doing all of those things with you. And my heart wonders at how you can miss - truly miss, like a certain childhood joy or like a friend moved away - something that never really was. How can you miss a dream? But I miss the dream of your life here with us on this earth. I miss the moments we thought that we would have. And my heart aches to know if ever we will look upon the sea together.
Today I wrestle with the idea of what should have been.
And I miss the dreams of you.
