Being raw.

I find I kind of hate the posts I wrote before all of this, when I was just starting to write here (as opposed to now, when I am what, ten posts and a whole lifetime in).

I wish I didn’t and maybe later I will go back and like having a record of what I was thinking about and going through before all of this happened. I don’t know really. Right now I find I want to go back and slap that girl for worrying about such stupid things.

I know it’s not rational. What happened to Oliver is not about me, what I did or didn’t do. It’s about a fluke – a stupid, one in a million chance that happened to get him.

I keep wondering if I’ll have more comfort somehow once the coroner’s inquest is done and we maybe have some answers about the “what”. I know we won’t have answers about the why. Maybe we’ll never get that.

I keep praying that God will reveal the why to us – or if not reveal a whole why, maybe just impress a peace on us with what happened. I know we got a ridiculous amount of answers to prayer before in all of this….is it wrong to ask for direct answers? I don’t think so – but I do think I have to be prepared for not getting them.

I hate the idea that this might fundamentally change me somehow – that the cheerful, capable, optimistic person I was might somehow cease to be through this – that I’ll be sadder, more cautious about everything. I don’t want that to be my son’s impact on my life – his legacy. He was such a beautiful little guy and I AM just so sad that he’s not here; that I don’t get to share our lives with him. But he was here and he mattered and I don’t want to go on changed for the worse because of that.

Maybe it’s still too raw to figure out.


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