I am sitting in a little outpatient room with my husband. He just had minor outpatient surgery. I was ready post-op to get some funny videos of the crazy thing he says after anesthesia.
I got my camera ready. I asked how his surgery went. He repeated the same thing over and over. Then I told him I was going to make a video for Facebook and asked him if he had any messages for his kids. In his sedated state he said, “Just one. Azaiah. I want him to know I love him and I miss him.”
What I intended for a laugh stabbed my heart. For two years I have been a mother who lost her baby. Today, for the first time, I saw a father who lost his son.
I realized that for two years I have been the mother. I have been the mother whose baby died. I have been the mother who was tortured by silenced cries. I am the mother whose breasts ached to nurse a child in the ground.
I have been so full of my own grief that I have been blinded to another tragedy. His son died too. My husband lost his son.
As I sit here and watch him sleep, my spirit drifts and dreams of our son. I hear him say:
Dad, I love you too. I know that you had plans for me there. I know you wanted to hear me run through the house. I know you wanted to hear my laughter and watch me grow. I know you wanted me to play with trains like my brother did. You wanted to watch me dig in the dirt, play baseball and be your boy.
I wanted that too.
I miss you. I know you miss me there, but I miss you here. I can’t wait for you to come. Please hurry. We don’t die here. We don’t even need a sun because the glory of Father shines on us. His presence erases any fear or sadness. It is just perfect.
Well, I must go. Worship around the throne starts soon. Take care of Mom for me and give brother and sisters a hug from me. See you soon!
Love, Your son, Azaiah
