Your ageless, timeless face...I have no new pictures of you. You have not changed nor aged in over a year. These faded visions are all I have left of you. I can still close my eyes and capture the essence of your smell and the sound of your voice, but for how long? The fear of forgetting you comes to me sometimes, usually when I have been busy and not thinking about you a lot. You'll come back to me like a kitten peering around the corner and I will startle that I had not had you on my mind for a few hours. And then the fear swoops in. You will fade to the world, but I cannot let you fade to me.
I can sometimes be so tortured by your means of dying. It was so awful to me that the last six weeks of your life were spent in such helpless and steadily increasing illness. I had a vision this week, a couple of days ago. I was questioning my faith, as I always do now, feeling insecure and without footing. And I wondered...what if it is true? What if God or Jesus or the angels had come to me in the moments just prior to turning off the machines sustaining you and had put hands on my shoulders and with gentle compassion and infinite love had said to me "He needs to go with us now...there is nothing more you can do for him now. He will be completely healed and he will be whole. He will be without fear, without pain, without sickness or sorrow and he will not long for you. He will know he'll see you again and he will be content and so well cared for. But you will have to do without him for 40 to 50 years, maybe more. I can give him healing, but you then must sustain this injury of spirit for the rest of time as you can concieve it now."
I would have been so grateful. Grateful for an option that gave him healing and health, happiness and vitality back. I would have taken an injury over and over again that would have meant his recovery. This thought process comforts me. If God asked me to shoulder this sadness so that my child no longer has to suffer, then I can and I will. Every day that I feel it, if my head is just right, I can feel it as something allowing him to be well.