Lance is working the port tonight. This is the first night since Gideon left us that we have been apart. I dropped him off at the station after homegroup and headed my way home. I have driven only a couple of times by myself over the past month. I have learned though while being alone in the car that I probably should not listen to Christian music unless I want to cry. So tonight I made my way and listened to fiinancial advice about money markets, lines of credit, mortgages and bank fraud on the Clark Howard show. I was pretty certain that I would be able to keep a dry eye. But it wasn't happening. I found myself thinking about how Gideon used to shake it. The tears began to flow. He would sit in his bouncer or in his tub seat and move his shoulders up and down. He would hit the water so hard and splash. He would grin ear to ear as if he knew exactly what he was doing--dancing and splashing. He was just starting to really interact with us and smile back at us in a conscious response. He was starting to really laugh. By now my face is soaked and my eyes still full. Clark Howard couldn't help keep the tears at bay. I began to talk to him as I do almost everytime that I am alone. I cry out and tell him how much I loved him and still love him. I tell him how much I miss him and how I wish I could just hold him, see him and rub his perfect cheeks. Then I tell him that I am sorry. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I tell him he had been planned and prepared for. He had been asked for and anticipated. He had not been an afterthought, an oops, or an uh-oh. He was wanted and we wanted the best for him. And again I tell him I'm sorry. But why do I keep coming to those words? I don't feel blame. I don't punish myself. But he is my baby who was taken far too soon and I am so deeply hurt by that. And I am sorry that any harm came his way. I know that he is in the hands of God and that all things ARE perfect for him now but I still cry out for him and ache for him.
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