Quiet moments

I slept badly last night. Not unusual lately with sick kids over running my days and my thoughts and my bed. I woke up around 5:30am when Ben cried out in his sleep. I reached over Kit to lay my hand on him, realizing he was feverish again, and calmed him with my touch. Just knowing I was there, even mostly asleep, was enough to soothe him back into a quiet deep sleep again. I like that feeling. That feeling that even when he isn't totally aware of the world around him and what's going on my touch alone can soothe him so easily and quickly.

I thought of Seth at that moment and how I'm sure that the touch of his parents was able to do the same for him. Even if he wasn't aware of everything around him, he still felt that peace that little ones get from the touch of a parent. He still felt their love for him through their touch. He still knew that they were there and their love was with him. He could feel it... through their touch alone. I'm sure he found comfort in that... like Ben found comfort through his pain and his fever and sickness that Mami was there and so that meant it was going to be okay.

So, I lied in bed on my side looking at Kit's little face. She's 18 mos. old now but still a little tiny peanut of a thing. Her little eyes closed, her long lashes resting quietly on her cheeks, her wispy hair in little tendrils on her forehead and I thought of how completely angelic she looked... and that made me think of Seth again. I watched her chest rise and fall slowly and thought of Seth.

I looked at my two little ones asleep, side by side finding comfort in each other as well as in me, and thought of how blessed we are to have them. Then, in all honesty, felt upset and hurt and mad that Seth is gone. It was just one of those moments that the wrongness of it all really got to me. Mothers should never have to let go of their babies. I had the old questions that bubble up on me come up again... the questions of why if God is a loving God, and I believe He is, He would let this happen. Why take such a small innocent little life? Why leave these parents with this pain and agony? Why make these young boys live with missing a brother? Why do good people have to live with this kind of pain? It doesn't make sense to me. I already know it never will. I accept that it never will make sense to me and most of the time I tell myself it's not for me to understand. Then other times it makes me angry and hurt and upset... like this morning.

So this morning I stroked Kit's cheek as she slept and told myself how lucky I am. I rested my hand on Ben's hot little head and told myself how blessed we are. Thinking of Seth and missing him the whole time and not being able to shake off the sadness and the "wrongness" of him not being here. We miss you Seth. We love you.

~ Patti D. and the whole gang of us