Castle in the sky...

Sometimes the sadness comes out of nowhere.  You think you're fine and then you feel it come on and there's no stopping it.  Such was the case this morning.  I woke up feeling okay, tired but that's normal. I got dressed, responded to the immediate needs of the kids and started to head out the door.  The minute the humid, hot air hit me, I was taken back.  Taken back to that morning... the last morning I drove to the hospital as the sun was rising. 

Walking out of the garage I looked up into the sky and noticed the sun rays were piercing through the clouds the same way they did that morning.  In a second I was taken back.

Each time the sky is like this, I'm reminded of that morning.  I look back now and wonder if the gates of heaven were opening and the light and beauty from above were shining through.  Now when I see skies like this, I think... is the gate of Heaven opening again?  Is there someone looking down watching over us?  I soak in the beauty but always feel a twinge of sadness.

Continuing on putting one foot in front of the other, a saying that literally means exactly what it says... (some days putting one foot in front of the other takes more effort than I ever realized it could), I put Madelyn in the car, got Michael situated with his things and climbed in myself.  I turned on the car, the radio came on and the song, "Castle on the Hill" came on and for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about him. I can't explain it, the grief, it comes on at the most random of times with different precursors each time.  Today it was the weather, the sun rise, the music.

As I drove Michael to my aunt and uncles house, I listed to Ed Sheeren's song and thought about Noah.  The song talks about his youth, about growing up playing with friends, breaking his leg, his first kiss, and other things.  I grief everything about losing Noah.  I grieve the friendships he doesn't get to have, the first kiss, his first day of college, his wedding day, him becoming a dad.  All the big things in life, he doesn't get to have.  He doesn't get life, and that makes me so sad.  As I listened to the lyrics of the song, "I know I've grown, I can't wait to go home.  I'm on my way... I miss the way you make me feel, and its real.  We've watched the sunsets over the castle on the hill."

And as I thought of those lyrics so many feelings come to me.  Having and losing Noah was probably the biggest defining moment of my life and I know I've grown.  As thankful as I am to have my life here, the many blessings I've been given, I also have a new way of looking "going home."  I've always been afraid of death, of dying and never wanted to think about it.  With the hope and promise that Noah is in Heaven and hopefully waiting to greet me when it's my time, I think about "going home, to our forever home" with peace.  Through Noah's loss, I see life and death so differently. 

And then the lyrics, I miss the way you make me feel and it's real.  You wouldn't believe how many times I relive those days we spent together in the hospital.  While scary with the uncertainty, those days were filled with love, with joy and with so much happiness.  We'd get to excited to see him move his hand, or grip my finger, that his blood gas report looked okay, that he got to start milk.  So many joys amidst the fear of the unknown.  I miss the way he made me feel, I miss everything about him. 

Finally, the lyrics, We've watched the sunsets over the castle on the hill.  When I think of these lyrics I picture the castle on the hill to be Heaven.  Oh how many sunsets I've watched since Noah passed, I dream of getting to see him, of wondering what he must be doing in Heaven?  Listening to the song, it occurred to me, what if he watches the sunsets too?  What if its something we do together and I had never even thought about it?  Maybe someday, when my time on earth is through, we can watch the sunsets together from the castle on the hill. 

As the song ended I found myself weighed down with grief.  It sometimes so strong, its like pulling a wagon filled with weight.  I slowed to a red light in front of me and looked down at my phone and saw a message had come through.  It was this...

 

It was from my friend Brandi, one of Noah's nurses.  I'm not sure how she knew, or what made her decide to send, but oh am I so grateful she did.  Like the pair of scissors needed to cut the ropes of the weight I was pulling, she was my messenger of hope, just when I needed it.

I dropped Michael off, turned around and went home.  I sent him the same message and he responded, "I was just thinking about him."  Funny how messages like this are such great gifts.

He's never far from my mind....

Until next time,

Angie