I'm Supposed to be...

(Taken December 14th, 2015. The day before he passed)

Last Sunday God gave me just the tiniest piece of peace in my heart.

It's made dealing with the grief of loosing my son, easier I guess. 

It didn't take away the pain, but it made most moments bare able. 

Tonight the grief is overflowing. 

I'm crying fat tears that I can't stop.

It hurts. 

My heart hurts. 

I'm missing him.

How could I not miss him?

Tonight I'm just letting it out. 

Letting it flow. 

I don't understand how we got here.

How I could love this little boy so completely.

And now he's gone. 

Just like that.

The bad thing about PTSD is that no matter how much faith you have, it still rears its ugly heard. 

It still taunts you.

It still makes you relive the pain over and over again.

I've been watching videos of Liam today.

I could almost pretend he was asleep in his bed. 

Instead of playing in heaven.

I hear myself talking to him on the videos and I can hear how happy I was.

I could hear how much I loved him.

I wonder, why me?

Why my son?

God didn't do this. 

It's not punishment.

He's didn't take my son because he needed another angel.

He saved my son when his body couldn't continue any longer. 

God knows how much I loved my son. 

He knows how much it hurt to see him sick.

God knows I would have laid down my life to give my son a long health one.

God knows what's in my heart that I can't put into words. 

As I sit here trying to stop crying and failing, all I keep thinking is,

"I just want my baby back" 

"Why am I being so selfish?"

I'm supposed to be happy for him, that wasn't forced to live a long life of suffering. 

I'm supposed to be happy that he got to go straight to heaven, never having sinned. 

He never had his heart broken, truely broken.

He never felt unloved or unwanted.

I am happy for him. 

But I still miss him so much that it just hurts beyond words sometimes. 

I know that I'll continue to put one foot in front of the other,

Count to ten,

And find my way. 

I know every second of every day will be tinged with the loss and the pain it's caused.

I'm just trying to survive every ten seconds until I can wrap my arms around my son again.