I didn’ t know what I was asking for

It’s been a little more than 26 months since Mason left us. Of all the blogs I’ve read and people I have spoken to, they all say that the second year is the hardest. After the shock wears off and reality starts so settle back in, that’s when you really get started. Well, we survived the second year.

Another thing I have heard from others is that there is no time table on grief. The Compassionate Friends consider you “newly” bereaved if it’s been less than 5 years. I’m still “newly” bereaved. Sometimes, I’m still in shock. Sometimes it’s not real. Sometimes, I think that my alarm clock will wake me up from a horrendously long nightmare.

Being “newly” bereaved, I am still very early on in my healing progress. The pain is still very deep. Obviously, I haven’t had the time to let it heal, but I expect at some point that the pain will be more like a soreness, a bad ache. Right now, the knife is still in my heart and it’s twisting around and around. The wound is not able to start healing just yet.

As if all this wasn’t bad enough, there is the guilt. All of this pain, all of the heartache, all of the tears, all of the sadness and all of the helplessness, I wished on someone else.

Early in April of 2002, we found out Mason needed a heart transplant. The current route of treatment wasn’t going to be good enough and time was of the essence. I prayed every day for a heart to become available for Mason. Six months later, my prayers were answered. At that point, someone else started their life without their child. I spent six months wishing this curse on someone else. I didn’t care who, I just wanted my child to live. I wanted Mason to have a chance. And I got it.

I spent six months praying for all this to happen to someone else. Now I’ll spend forever praying for God to forgive me for asking this. I didn’t know what I was asking for. I just wanted the best for Mason.

Now I’m on the other side. I find myself telling people all the time that I hope you never have to deal with the loss of a child. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone”, I say. Yet, twelve years ago, that’s exactly what I was doing. Would I do it again, knowing what I know now? Yes. So I guess I’m lying when I say I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. If my child’s life is on the line, I would wish it on anyone.

So, what this boils down to is just another twist of the knife for me. On one hand, I don’t want anyone to experience this. I don’t want to have to ask God to take another one of his children so that my child could live. Yet, if it came down to it again, I’d make the same request. My child is more important than anyone else’s; just as your child is more important than mine.