|
I began writing Robert's page over 7 years ago-he was "sailing" through treatment for leukemia. Robert died from his disease. Now, we live without him every single day. My words are how I live without him.
Thank you for reading.
Journal
Thursday, November 17, 2011 5:30 AM CST As I take time to reflect I am reminded that I never lost Hope--I never lost Hope that Robert would out live the leukemia that overtook his young body. I can't really quite explain it, or give it the justic it deserves, but there was something in me; something bigger than myself, bigger than the cancer that ate his body alive--it was a hope that came from the depths of the caverns of my heart. The crevices deep within me, my own blood was full of it-his blood was full of disease, mine was full of Hope.
I will never forget how it never left. How even after he stopped breathing, and his limbs were hard and cold, I sat there next to him full of Hope. I waited. I breathed very softly, quietly, touching his face and hair...knowing and believing that my touch exuded the healing power of Hope...I waited. I prayed and said to my God: "Okay, now you can heal him, now you can still do it...I'm waiting. I know he can be healed..." It didn't happen. Then as my 3 young children trickled into the silent room to see their brother, I sat and waited...I hoped as they looked and so quietly watched him lying there...I waited and never stopped hoping.
It took a few long minutes before I realized that hope would not be fulfilled. I rose from his bedside, walked to my room, took a shower, found something in my closet that fit my new boney frame and I began to live...I swept the house, began to organize and manage a family...Sorrow filled my home where Hope once dwelled. Sorrow took up residence; it's Hope's cousin I think. They are definitely family-kindred spirits of sorts.
I tolerated Sorrow. I hated Sorrow. I liked Hope much better. She suited me. She I welcomed, Sorrow I resented. Sorrow meant that Hope was supposed to be gone now, dead with my son....
I lost all Hope in the couple of years after Robert's death when Sorrow moved in. The funny thing about Hope, well, though lost, she is really never gone, just often missing...it's as if she knows Sorrow needs to have it's time and place in the spotlight so that when she returns she is appreciated for the remarkable, neverending, overwhelming part of life that makes it all worth it...Hope helped rebuild my life, my heart, my home--my soul. Sorrow left-Hope didn't let it have it's way with me, I think Hope liked me too much...
Maybe it was the way I waited for it. Maybe it was the way I never gave up on Hope even after Robert's body was clearly dead that she wouldn't give up on me...Hope has helped me raise my other 3 children; has helped me re-invent myself and work, be a friend, and even love with my whole heart.
Your final words I will never forget my son, "Mom! Mom!" They were spoken to me late in the night your final night-you pointed at something you wanted me to see; excitedly you called me to see what you could see...Robert, my son, I can see what you wanted me to see that night--I can see what you saw...I see light at the end of a tunnel, I see a rainbow that stands for a promise, I see brilliance in the dimness of despair, I laughter and love and Hope...I can see what you wanted me to see. Thank you my son for never giving up-for always having Hope. I'm glad you left her here with us.
Robert Mitchel Charlton...April 28, 1991 to November 17, 2002
Read Journal History
Links:
|
|