For me it feels like two years.
Not one, but two.
Certainly not three.
I am glad and surprised to have posted these thoughts only ten days after Ben died:
How good and gracious is our God for me to receive such a perfect message at that time.
One friend caught a phrase I uttered once and said, "that should be the name of your book," . . . Painful but Perfect
Very few know how I cried to the wind, unheard, unable to change course for him, shackled from a most bizarre and wicked divorce, from January 2016 until literally the morning of his death (he died in the afternoon) ten months later. I was on the phone the morning of his death still crying to the wind seeking help for him while he lived away for two months time...not receiving care.
Not one person knows each detail, each date, each devastating experience beginning June 2015, each call, each meeting, each skip, each quit, each sorrow shared, each...each...each...except a mother...except me.
Not one person.
Not one person.
Very few know how I am crying to the wind again, from January 2019 until this very day, unheard, so far unable to change a course, shackled from a most bizarre and wicked divorce still, making yet another phone call on this very day to another place trying to be heard in the care of another teen boy who has been living away for two months time...not receiving care.
Not one person knows each detail, each date, each devastating experience beginning June 2015, each call, each meeting, each skip, each quit, each sorrow shared, each...each...each...except a mother...except me.
Not one person.
Not one person.
A friend has said, do not fear, such things can't happen twice.
Ok.
Ok.
Three years ago today, Tuesday, Election Day, Ben Died.
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