I want my life back. The one before my son died. I want my health back. I don't want this new "normal." I hate that word. Normal. There's nothing normal about the death of your child. I'm mad and I'm sick of being in pain all day every day. I'm ticked off because I can count on one hand how many times I've had a decent night's sleep in the past 15 months. I'm sick of having to push memories of Matt out of my mind in order to function and "carry on" with life. I'm angry that I can't look at his pictures because it's too painful. I'm angry that hardly anyone talks about my son or shares a memory of him with us. I'm angry that the rest of my children have to grow up without their brother. I'm angry that yet another month has gone by. I hate that my son is a part of my past. I hate that there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Grief really, really sucks and being angry is a really crummy place to be.
Anger takes a lot of energy. Energy isn't something I have an abundance of, however. The moments (or days) in which my grief and sorrow are transposed with anger are hard days. I mentally beat upon God's chest, falling back into asking why, but eventually collapsing into His arms in tears and exhaustion. The very person I direct my anger at is also the only person who can bring me comfort, healing, and truth. "Whom have I in heaven but you?"(Psalm 73:25) Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?(Psalm 139:7) I don't (and never will this side of Heaven) understand God's ways. BUT. But thanks be to God, I don't have to. Because GOD is GOD. He is good. He is love. He is righteous. He is just. He is who He says He is. I will trust in Him and lean not on my own understanding.
"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding."