Depths

Today was a screaming day. My throat is sore and the heels of my hands are bruised.

I spent most of the morning sitting beside a lake clutching pictures of my son to my chest and rambling at God. Some of the conversation stayed in my head, some of the words spilled into the air. I talked to Damon. I told him about the memories a saw staring back at me. I told him how desperately I miss him. I cried “Where are you God? Where are You?” over and over.

At some point the crisp morning air seeped in through my jacket and I decided I had cried enough. I went home, hopeful that my morning session of vomiting up every emotion in the human spectrum would mean a relatively stable day.

It did not.

Something inside me snapped today. It snapped with a loud sickening crack and every ounce of anything good snapped with it.

I sat on the floor in Damon’s room pressing my body against his crib as hard as I could, gripping the wooden slats, wailing. I shook the crib and screamed with all my might. I huddled against the corner and gently stroked the woodgrain. I reached my hands between the bars and stroked the sheet where his head used to rest. I beat the walls with my hands. I screamed and screamed and screamed.

I completely lost my mind.

There was nothing but screaming, aching, wailing depths. I have never felt so hopeless. I cried out his name “come back, come back!”

I have no idea how long this went on. I’ve never been so deep in the black.

“Help me”, I croaked desperately at my husband… “I can’t” he said. He can’t…

We sat in each other’s arms, grieving together. Whispering.

“Help” I reached for the strongest, dearest warrior I know “I’m failing.” She responded with scripture. She responded with David’s words, his cries to God and I know she hit her knees.

That’s the beautiful thing about a true warrior, they don’t tell you they’ll be praying, they draw their sword and they get after it right then and there. I know she prayed because in the following agonizing minutes I felt the suffocating layers of the black lift. It’s still black but now there is not layer upon layer of black. I can feel the hope again, just a glimmer.