Tristy, it’s been a long time since I saw your face. When I go back in time can I choose your little face? It hurts too much to remember the face you left with.
That part inside me that remembers is aching because I missed something.
You had big teeth in your wee, little, precious, boy face. It was brush-your-teeth time every night. But I didn’t teach you well because I missed something. When you went to the dentist you had a cavity between your front teeth. How does a little boy get a cavity in his front teeth?
It was my fault.
There was a piece of apple skin lodged there. How long had it been there? How could I have missed something so obvious? Wasn’t it bothering you?
But your sunny disposition just put up with it day after day until it became the norm.
All the while it was eating away at you and I should have seen it.
It was my fault.
I should have looked more closely.
I wonder if you felt neglected?
I wonder if I loved you enough?
I wonder if I spent real time looking into your face instead of being exhausted from kids, kids, kids, teaching, scolding, driving, scheduling.
I wonder if you felt like a chore?
I would give anything to go back to the old you. Just to see that light in your eyes, big and blue and wide with kidlife. Those eyes looked upon the world with abandon.
When did the light go out?
I saw it happen and wanted to scramble backwards to the days when you were open and asking, ready and laughing. It’s like parts of your origins in heaven still existed in those eyes until earth washed it away.
How could I have missed it?
Your well-being was my everything. And now that I am no longer in charge of that I feel tossed into empty space.
I wish I would have taken the time to teach you to brush your teeth the right way so that no foreign matter could’ve hidden there and eaten away at you.
I wish I had taught you more about your soul so that you would’ve come to me when things weren’t right.
What made you not come to me?
Wasn’t I your safe zone?
Were you too afraid of the darkness to share it with me?
I would’ve loved you anyway. That was my whole reason for existing.
Dear God, is it any wonder why I don’t want to exist now? You gave me a boy that I couldn’t keep alive. I missed it. I’m not going to make it, thinking this way. I’ve got to tell myself True things. I tried and tried. You could’ve let it work but You called him home instead. My only resolution comes from knowing You have a purpose beyond my comprehension. I will trust You because You’ve done it before in scripture where I can see the whole story. Like Joseph saying, “you meant evil against me but God meant it for good.” For good. All Your purposes are good. Evil turned with a flick of Your hand. Ashes resurrected to beauty with the breath of Your nostrils. Tristan was yours all along. You saw, You knew, You saved. He is Yours.
If I have to be here without him, make me useful while I’m waiting. What else matters?
Could You just tell him I’m sorry for not seeing and I’m sorry for not being the person he could come to? I imagine the day when he will come to me with kidlife back in his eyes, and merriment back in his smile as he throws his arms around me and says, “Mom. We’re Home.”
