Wednesday, March 6, 2013

dirty white sock

I can't believe we are coming up on one year since we lost Quincy, Val and Kathy. It is so unreal that we have lived this long without them. When I think back to the last year of my life, I feel like it never happened. I feel like I have been checked out for the last 10 months. 10 months today. Did all of that really happen? Did we really bury a child and two parents? No, Quincy is at daycare. Val and Kathy are at home.

I wish.

I was having an especially hard day last week. It was Thursday so I was home with Ryder. He was a doll that day, but everything else was making me sad. Ryder has gotten so cute and happy and I am really starting to enjoy him. He is becoming more childish and not so babyish and I am reminded of the things I love and miss about Quincy. I was in Ryder's room folding clothes and cleaning up, a room I am in daily and I kept noticing Qs' things. I see these things every day, but that day they were standing out, triggering so many memories and emotions. In that sweet little boys room we have a lot things that were Quincy's; her toys, her rocking horse, her lamp, her crib, her photos and shadowbox, things that are now to be owned and used by her brother. This is bittersweet for me. I want Quincy to play with those toys and rock on that horse.

It was the box of puzzles in the closet that hit me the hardest that day. Anyone that knew Quincy knows how much she loved puzzles. We played puzzles every day. I stared at that red box for a long long time, writhing inside. My heart ached. When I get in these moments where I cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel, when I am so consumed by sadness, I have to push the sad thoughts out of my head. I have to shift my focus, otherwise I am crippled by sorrow and it's impossible to function. I moved on with my chores, trying to shift. I was changing Ryder's bed sheet and my mind became consumed again with Quincy as I was daydreaming about her in that crib such a very short time ago. (which seems like an eternity) As I was tucking and tightening the sheet I felt something. A little lump. I put my hand up in the sheet and pulled out a dingy dirty little sock. Quincy's sock. How did it get there? A week after the funeral I pulled her bed apart and washed everything. I have washed Ryder's sheets multiple times. How did that little sock get there??? My entire body was burning. The feeling in that room was so overwhelming. I have never been so grateful for a dirty sock. I broke down. I sobbed for my darling little Quincy. I cried for a long time, harder than I have let myself in a while.
10 months later, my mind is still constantly reeling, trying to process, trying to make sense of everything that has happened. I want to understand. I want to see the bigger picture. I want to know why God let Quincy die, why He didn't save her when I know He could have. I want to know more. I want to feel at peace. I want my mind to rest, to be content and to feel confident in what I know and believe.

The more I question and the more I wonder, the more confused and frustrated I get. Then I get a sweet little reminder of the life that I once shared with a feisty 20 month old darling I named Quincy, and I feel peace. I feel a burning in my heart and my eyes swell. I don't need to wonder. I don't need to understand. I will never, in this life, know the details. I know that she is alive. I can feel her. I know that I will see her again. And that, for now, is enough.


jordyn izatt said...

I do not know you, but my heart aches for you. I have a little girl who is the same age as your precious Quincy, and another daughter the same age as your son. I know this might be weird to comment to someone that I don't know, but I wanted to say that your story makes me love on girls even more and to try not to take them in my life for granted. You're such an inspiration to me. I probably sound like such a creep, but I just wanted to let you know.

Anonymous said...

I am a stranger. I was so sad when I read about the accident on the news when it happened. I can't remember how I happened upon your blog and normally don't comment on strangers blogs but felt like I should. I have never lost a child but have also wondered why god would allow such bad things to happen to good people but especially children. In church on Sunday a woman spoke about how her baby daughter was so sick. How she was so sad and the woman could only stay up through the night and rock her. The woman said "I didn't want her to get sick, I didn't make her sick, and I knew she was miserable. I couldn't take the pain away, but I could comfort her". She related it all to Heavenly Father and how he must feel the same emotions every time he watches one of his children suffer. This for some reason made a lot of sense to me, and wanted to share. Much love!

Ty n Casey's Mom said...

Angie, I sure enjoy reading about your precious little family. You don't know me but I grew up with the Drapers who are some of the finest people I know. I marvel at your strength! Thank you for sharing your journey. You are in our thoughts and prayers.

The Staheli's said...

Thank you for testimony you share with all of us and your feelings. We love you and I am glad you had a tender mercy. He does know and love you!!