The 17th of the month.
7/16/2022
Tomorrow will make 7 months. Here we are, seven months without the laughter, seven months of not hearing your voices, seven months of no hugs and smells of freshly washed hair, perfume and cologne. The emptiness of the house screams their absence every day. I never imagined how silence could be so loud. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't been in disbelief that this is our reality. I never thought that I would miss having piles of laundry to fold. I never thought that I would miss having to stop at the store every day or a few times a day. I never thought that I would miss having to buy so much at the grocery store. I miss it all.
I think back to that dreadful day. It' so overwhelming that I can't stay there very long. I am so amazed how God anointed Katie for such a time as this. The hard decisions that she had to make after that tragic night were unthinkable and massive. It’s almost incomprehensible when I think about it. Even if I wasn’t in the ICU, I don’t know how I would have mentally been able to plan a funeral for my three precious babies that I loved so much.
I am also very thankful for the pastors and the church that rose up and came to help us in our darkest hour. They were so instrumental in helping us navigate through this horrific tragedy. Acadiana Christian School was also fundamental in getting us through. The school and church loved us unconditionally and helped us with every need we had.
The other six kids (and their significant others: Ciera, Errik, Lestat) gathered together around their dad and united together where each did whatever was needed to hold our broken family together. We also had Cathy, our family prayer warrior, who was interceding as the days unfolded.
I can faintly remember as I was in ICU asking over and over “where are the kids?” but I never got a concrete answer. In my heart I knew they were gone but I didn't get the confirmation until Sunday evening after my first surgery. Katie came to see me and the second that she walked into the room, I looked directly at her and asked “where are the kids?”. She hesitated to tell me. She said “We just want to focus on you, Mom”. She eventually had to tell me. She told me they were all gone. I was so physically broken. I didn't have the physical capability to take it all in. They tell me that I was in and out of it. I would wake up and say “so they're all gone?" All of them? Lindy? Brother? Kamryn?” drifting in and out as I asked each question. As I look back at this, I think it was a blessing. There is just no way that I could have taken the weight of it all. I love these kids so much. I truly love them with every part of me. I poured into them with every opportunity I had. Not many people realize just how special these kids were to me. If I wasn’t working, I was with one of them. We were always together. It was truly one of the greatest joys that the Lord blessed me with.
Grief is such a back and forth battle. You literally have to fight to stay above water. I try to look at things eternally instead of in the moment. I trust that Heaven is our real home, and that brings incredible context and meaning and purpose to our time here on earth. We are here to reflect God's love to the world. We all have work to do. Though I have no understanding of the "why" this happened, I trust that I am fully known by my Heavenly Father, and I know that He has nothing but love and a deep compassion for me. He is faithful.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," says the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts."
Isaiah 55:8-9