Peace

How can I not post on this? 33 people, sons, daughters, cousins, brothers, sisters, gone. Plus I am a teacher. I have students who write about death, sadness, hate, depression, being lonely, picked on, etc. I get scared. Since last Monday, I have stopped putting my keys in my desk drawer and carry them in my pocket. I can lock my door faster that way. Sometimes the world seems too much to bear. I look at Mason and fear for him, for the world he will grow up in. I think about this new baby just beginning life in me and fear for him or her. What will they face? What pain will I suffer because of motherhood. Its amazing how the world changes the instant you become a mother. Kidnapped children become your own. Witnessing the aftermath of a car wreck is devastating, not an inconvenience. Commercials for St. Jude's Hospital form a lump in your throat because you can't imagine watching your perfect child die. But here is what I cling to. That unexplained peace that comes in times of hurt, and unbearable tragedy. I have been so very fortunate in my life to have very few moments of real tragedy. We have had moments of heartbreak and ache, but the kind of tragedy mentioned above, never. But I have lost my dad. My daddy. And I remember before it happened that I could barely allow my mind to let the thought of him dying enter my mind before it was forcibly removed from my thinking. It was too much to deal with, to think about. I couldn't even fathom the pain of his death. And then it happened. After a week in the hospital, that I, strangely, look back on with a great deal of appreciation, he went to heaven. It was devastating. I cried then, cried for real, cried until no more tears could come, but even in the depth of those tears, a peace was there and has been there ever since. Of course, I wish my Dad were still here. I wish I would never wake from those dreams I have with him in it where I am rushing to tell him everything happening in my life before he is gone. I wish he could see my house, my classroom, hear stories about Mason, feel his hug again, but even with that ache, I am at peace with his passing. He is in heaven, just waiting for us. Or maybe he isn't even waiting. Maybe we're already there with him because in heaven thousands of years pass in a second. Another sense of comfort is that every time I look at Mason, I just know Dad had to play a part in picking him out. I just know it.

Tragedy and pain is inevitable. But that unexplained peace is even more definite. Thank goodness for that.