I was hit with the sobering reality that my life with my boy, here on earth, other than memories, has now been completely reduced to the realm of hypothetical. Enough time has passed to know that Judson’s appearance, thoughts, desires, and pleasures would have changed and developed significantly in these two years and I am simply left to hypothesize as to who he might now be.
My mind constantly races with questions:
If Judson were here, what toys would he currently enjoy?
If Judson were here, how tall would he be?
If Judson were here, would he be starting to read?
If Judson were here, what activities would occupy his time?
If Judson were here, what would he and Jessie enjoy doing together?
If Judson were here, what costume would he have worn for Halloween today?
If Judson were here…
If Judson were here…
If Judson were here…
But Judson is not here.
I theorize, suppose, and imagine, but the question mark always remains.
I wish Judson were here.
I wish he were with you too. 🙁
I wish Judson were here too. One thing you don’t have to reduce to hypothetical, Judson’s love..Judson loves you to pieces and is still loving you from heaven. I wish you were together now, but until that day, I am praying for you!!
Love,
Sandy
I copy below an excerpt from C.S. Lewis’ "A Grief Observed." It’s a profound and honest record of his own anguished journey after the death of his wife. He addresses the enduring pain of a bereaved mother in words that echo your deep loss. In his identification with your maternal pain, I hope you will find comfort.
With love, Michal
"And poor C. quotes to me, ‘Do not mourn like those that have no hope.’ It astonishes me, the way we are invited to apply to ourselves words so obviously addressed to our betters. What St. Paul says can comfort only those who love God better than the dead, and the dead better than themselves. If a mother is mourning not for what she has lost but for what her dead child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created. And it is a comfort to believe that she herself, in losing her chief or only natural happiness, has not lost a greater thing, that she may still hope to ‘glorify God and enjoy Him forever.’ A comfort to the God-aimed, eternal spirit within her. But not to her motherhood. The specifically maternal happiness must be written off. Never, in any place or time, will she have her son on her knees, or bathe him, or tell him a story, or plan for his future, or see her grandchild."