This morning was hard for me. A Tsunami of tears hit this afternoon. I cannot anticipate when this will happen. Sometimes something triggers it, other times the wave of emotion just comes. Today it knocked me over.
I have been taking photos for VBS at our church this week. For several years, I have been unable to volunteer or help with VBS as Daniel was not old enough to attend, and in order for me to help I would have needed someone to watch him. This was the first year he could have gone, as he was just at the completed kinder age. I was hoping to volunteer in his class and watch him participate. Instead I am trying to "do life" or find a "new normal" without him. Words seem so cheap as I try to talk about the forward process necessary. Because you see, my girls were still excited to attend this summer and I was thinking I should help somehow...not just go home alone every morning.
When I registered my girls last Friday (totally last minute) there was a box you had to check if you were okay with the church using photos/video taken of your kids during VBS. I thought, "
Hmmm, I wonder if they need an extra person to take photos. That might be a good fit for me emotionally right now." Because as I have already written, the Tsunami's come...at unexpected times...and so teaching didn't seem like a super great idea.
Anyway, the sweet lady in charge of VBS texted me Saturday night and asked if I would like to take photos/video for them this week at VBS. I immediately texted her back and said,
"Did I ask you to do that or is this the Lord's doing?" (My brain is so foggy these days, that I thought maybe I had told her this would interest me?) She replied,
"You didn't tell me...I think God's in everything so I'm going with that!"
So that's how I became one the photographers for VBS. Thank you Lord for how you work in every detail.
Today was hard because outside of the main sanctuary I was offered pizza. (Weird sentence I know!) There was pizza and salad for the pre-school workers and since I am taking photos of everyone, I qualified. Let me back up for a minute. A few months before Daniel died, the sweet pre-school coordinator had set up for Daniel to have one on one Sunday School. He was only able to attend two Sunday's before he got sick, but he LOVED it. So today, as I walked through the pre-school doors to get my piece of pizza, I saw the bright hallway that led to the little classroom where Daniel went to Sunday School.
And my mind flooded with memories. I could see him running.
He always ran ahead of me, casting a glance over his shoulder to see if I was following. His little arms swinging excitedly as he went.
I made myself walk down the hallway, and then the tears flooded over and spilled onto my cheeks. I could see him come to the gate (a gate I could never figure out how to open) and be smiling his huge ear to ear grin. Excited to go in when we arrived and excited to show me and tell me about his time when I came back to get him.
He loved water, so he constantly ran to the sink in that classroom (during class too!) to wash his hands "One more time". After the first week, I learned to talk to the teacher through the gate, because as soon as that gate opened he was off. I remember Kay trying to talk to me about the schedule one Sunday and Daniel disappeared in the sea of people leaving church...I spotted him 20 feet ahead of me ready to run out the doors. I yelled over my shoulder to Kay
"Just e-mail me!!!"
That was life with Daniel. He always kept me on my toes. And you had to keep your eyes on him at all times!! Silly boy.
And so I stood outside his little classroom today with my piece of pizza in my hand, trying to finish it quickly. Frozen to the ground. Afraid to make eye contact with the other adults. Knowing full well the floodgate of tears was about to start pouring. I was annoyed with myself, as I dropped a green pepper on the tile...I had to go cry...but I had to clean it up first.
I picked it up and threw my plate away. I smiled as best I could as I passed people. It was the end of the day, so everyone was busy. I just wanted to make it to the bathroom. I did and as soon as the door shut I let the tears fall. And fall. And fall.
I miss him. I love him. I miss everything about being his mom. Everything.
After a few minutes, I wiped my face as best I could and went to get my girls. As soon as I saw Lizzy I knew she knew. As we walked she said,
"You've been crying mommy." Sweet girl. Yes. Yes.
I cried on the way home. For a long while with Brent. And now again as I write.
The two read hearts title is from something different than Sunday School. But this card was made on the same day that Daniel made cards for his Sunday School teachers, so somehow in my head all these memories are together.
This card was for Taylor. She forgot it here the day he gave it to her. I found it a few weeks after he died, and gave it to her then. They both loved the color blue, so he chose a blue card, blue jewels, but then he put two little red hearts in the corner. I do not know how I missed the significance of the two red hearts the first time I saw his card. This was for he and Taylor.
He knew and felt so much more than we ever could know because of how he couldn't talk much. Oh but how his life spoke big.
And oh how I miss my boy.
