Heaven-sent

Today brought the hurt in triplicate. It's Tuesday. Already a hard day to get out of bed as rainy, dreary Tuesdays remind me of the day of Will's funeral. However, it's also the 17th again...at 1:52 it will be 2 months since Will took his last breath. They say time heals all wounds, but the hurt has yet to subside. I got in the car this morning and as luck would have it, I barely pulled out of the driveway before the song that we used in Will's photo video came on. Instant tears. I understand that the hurt will always be there to a degree, but I wonder how long it will be before I can trust myself to go out in public without the anxiety that something will sneak up on my emotions and get the best of me.

I posted a while back about the signs that I felt were leading our path. Though I know I shouldn't challenge God to show me signs as it most definitely can be seen as a lack of faith on my part, I can't help but think he is sending me signs anyway. Some in comfort, others as a much needed reality check. I'll only share a few, otherwise I'm sure you'll deem me certifiably crazy. :)

In December, I attended the Angel of Hope ceremony and everything was just a bit too fresh for me. I struggled to make sense of anything and I desperately just wanted some sort of sign that Will made it to Heaven. As I was thinking this, the light went out. They jiggled the cord and it came back on and it was apparent that this coincidental bad wiring was messing with my head. I challenged for a real sign. A noise instead of a sight. The thought hardly entered my mind when a car alarm went off. It seemed very out of place to me and crazy serendipitous, but surely it wasn't my sign. I needed something close to me that felt like it was meant just for me. Then, the candle that I was holding broke off and fell to the ground. I decided I had better stop challenging and just pray.

December continued with multiple coincidences like this. From choosing a picture off the wall that caught my attention and later finding this little Picasso's name was Will, to crossing paths with multiple people that have recently lost their infants, it felt like many timely events have been pulling me down a predestined path. Some have been too crazy to even begin to describe.

But the one that made me feel completely crazy came Christmas Eve morning. We woke up and opened gifts and spent a wonderful morning together. However, the sadness crept in as the celebration wound down. I found myself wishing for just one more chance to breathe in Will's scent. As the girls played with their gifts, Mark and I headed to our bedroom to pack and get ready for the next Christmas celebration. There, in the middle of the floor of our closet, were Will's socks. We couldn't figure out where they had come from or why they were there. After I had a little freak out, I picked them up and out of habit with all of Will's things, immediately brought them to my face. They smelled just like him. The heavenly scent of his powdery fresh skin and laundry detergent. I have no idea how they got there, but on Christmas Eve morning, I got to breath in his baby scent just one more time. It was the most precious Christmas gift ever.

Is it crazy to think these precious little socks were Heaven-sent? I know that the feet that were once in them sure were.