Choo Choo Goes the Train

I don't even know how to begin this post. I'm feeling very sad and missing my son right now. About a week or two ago I asked if our church would like Liam's train trable for the kiddos. They said yes. I knew it would be hard. I expected it to be hard. After all, it was one of Liam's favorites. 

(Image is of Liam playing)

His love for trains started in January of 2013, when I purchased his train table on clearance. He was immediately drawn to it and spent hours a day driving trains around the track. 

(Image is of Liam playing)

As soon as Liam could speak, he started asking for new trains, so we started collecting them. I remember how adamant he was about wanting that Rosie train. We were at Toys R Us, just the two of us, browsing. I always spoiled Liam with extra little toys because of all he had to go through. I felt so guilty that he was so sick, even though it wasn't my fault. I never flinched when I bought a new train, car, whatever. He deserved it. 

(Image is of a troublesome truck, Rosie and fatbed)

I can't tell you how many times we rebuilt the track and how many different ways. I use to sit there on the floor with him and just watch as he happily played. He always wanted me to watch as he pushed the train and said "choo choo". Many times, he'd start driving the trains across my legs and sometimes even my face.

After Liam passed away, I didn't know what to do with the train table. I wasn't ready to get rid of it yet. For months it sat there, set up and ready for a little boy, who would never come back, to play with it. When it became too depressing to look at, I boxed up the track and trains and threw a table cloth over the table. For the last few months it's been used to hold picture frames and battery operated candles and a basket of kids books. Liam's books. It's always just been in the way, taking up space. For awhile, I needed it there, taking up space. Proof Liam was really here. I still need that reminder. I knew I couldn't keep putting it off. 

(Image is of Ozzy sniffing the track)

Today, I decided I had to stop procrastinating. I dug the track out of the closet, uncovered the table and set to once again put together Liam's favorite toy. I wanted to cry. Ozzy was once again confused and had a sad look on his face. He sniffed the table and track,then laid under it like he always did. He looked up at me like "where's my Liam?". 

(Image is Ozzy laying under the train table looking up at me as if asking where his Liam is)

I wanted to ask him the same. Where's my Liam? Shouldn't he be running into the room asking me what I was doing with his toys? Shouldn't he be saying "play trains mommy?" 

I look at this table, void of a little boy, and see another broken piece of my life. Another reminder that our home, and our hearts, are missing a wonderful little boy with a beautiful soul and a giant heart. And it's not fair. Why couldn't my son be saved? Why do we have to hurt so much? Why can't we have our lives back, our little boy back? 

(Image is of Liam playing trains while sister watches him and tv)

I sat there in ER, watching them try to save my son and I prayed harder then I ever prayed. More than when he was born sick. I had more faith that God would save him the day he died then I had those days after he was born. So why when my faith was at its highest, why shake it and test it? I'm so angry and I'm so hurt, but I'm still here praying. I'm still here refusing to stop believing. 

So now, here we are, having to give away yet another item that was my sons. I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready to let something go, but the logical part of my brain tells me that I can't keep it all. That Liam won't be coming back for it. And I pray that he won't be mad at me for it either.

I showed up early to our Wednesday night kids program, table in tow. I wanted to make sure I had it in the nursery, put a safe distance between it and myself, and had my emotions under control before people started showing up. Today I peeked my head into the nursery to watch the kids playing with it. I don't know what I thought would come from it. Maybe some peace. I don't know how I felt as I watched one of the little girls play happily. I didn't cry. I wasn't completely overwhelmed with sadness. Just a little sad as I remembered all the hours Liam spent playing with his trains. I walked away knowing that this toy would bring joy to many kids in the next coming years. 

(Image is Liam's train table, being played with in our church nursery and it's beautiful mural)