That one song

We all have that one song.  The one we can't get enough of.  We could listen to it over and over again and not get sick of it.  I grew up with music being a huge part of my upbringing.  I was in several choirs, took piano lessons from the ages of 6-18 (don't ask me to play now because from 18-29 I haven't played), was in musicals, took voice lessons and dabbled in various other instruments.  I feel emotion through song much more than through words alone.  I hope I can pass on my love of music to Farrah. 
This song "Oceans (Where feet may fail)" by Hillsong United is my new jam.  Like seriously on repeat.  And I can't listen to it without crying.  It's a scientific fact.  The minute it starts... waterworks. 
Before Kellen passed, my experience at church was completely different than it is now.  Before we went because we felt like we were supposed to.  Well at least I felt like I had to and I'm pretty sure Abe just went to keep me happy.  Now it is time I look forward to every week to connect with God and help bring healing to our hearts like only faith can. 
When Abe and I had been married for a year or two we were in that new marriage, scraping by, top ramen phase of our relationship.  Like with most young couples we struggled financially for a little while and I remember saying to him "If this is the worst thing we ever have to go through as a couple, I will consider us to be very blessed."  Of course I never could have imagined what was to come.  In a way I felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I hadn't dealt with much loss in my life.  I lost both of my grandmas, but both had lived full lives, so while I was sad and missed them, I wouldn't consider losing them to be tragedies.  Losing a child on the other hand.....
So when I heard this song I really listened to was the lyrics despite the fact that it has a beautiful melody and instrumentals.  It describes our journey right now.  This season of our life has been filled with sorrow but also filled with faith like you could never imagine.  The entire song is one big description of my relationship with God in this moment but some lines in particular that stood out to me are the first lines:
"You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown, where feet may fail.
And there I find You in the mystery
In Oceans deep my faith will stand."

And towards the end where she sings:
"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me.
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Saviour."

It's as if God himself picked my brain and wrote this song to help me through this time.  I couldn't describe my feelings any better than the idea that I have been asked to have faith and walk out on the water, and the deeper it gets, the more faith I have. 

This past Saturday night I had a bit of a meltdown while laying in bed.  It was almost midnight and I couldn't sleep.  I couldn't stop thinking about Kellen.  When he first passed away it was so uncomfortable to go about my daily routine without him.   I was so used to doing everything with him on my hip.  I was so used to hearing him crawl around on the floor, to hearing him laughing.  It seemed so unnatural to not have him there.  But I'm starting to lose that feeling and I hate it.  My "new normal" is to go about my day revolving around Farrah and Abe, but not Kellen.  I was laying in bed and sobbing uncontrollably.  I haven't had that happen as often as you would think.  Crying yes.... multiple times per day, but not to the point of not being able to get it together. 
I have my ok days and my bad days.  Everyday I need to lean on my faith to get me through.  I lean on my sweet Farrah and my amazing husband.  I lean on my family and my friends.  This is certainly something I can't do on my own. 

The dreaded to do list

I'll be the first to admit it.  I'm kind of a to do list addict.  I love the feeling of writing something down that needs to get done and then crossing it off.  A sense of pride comes over me, even if it's just "load the dishwasher."  Ever since Kellen passed there is a whole long list of other types of things that need to get done.  Things that are hard to think about. 
This past weekend we crossed a huge one off our list.  I haven't even been able to write most of these things down on my list because putting pen to paper is one more form of validation that he's gone that I don't want to face.  We finally decided what we wanted put on his headstone.  It was something that we weren't intentionally putting off, but we just didn't have an urgency to decide because nothing seemed right.  It's a surreal experience.  What can we possibly say to describe Kellen's journey on earth and the way that he has touched our lives?  Finally the man from the cemetery called and told us we were pushing the limit for getting the engraving taken care of.  We had to get this figured out.  As I've said before, the word "joy" has been the theme of Kellen's life for us.  So Abe came up with something using a lyric from a song and changing it up a bit to say "Heaven holds joy for all of us."  Of course his name, date of birth and death will be on there as well.  We went back and forth about whether or not we wanted his picture on the stone.  We ultimately decided to put it on there even though it may be painful to see every time we go to visit.  We just felt we would regret it more if we didn't put it on there. 
There are many other things for us to get to.  We still haven't touched his room.  We put every single baby item we have in his room and shut the door.  If you open the door it is packed to the brim with his things.  You can't even walk in there.  One more thing for us to get to. 
The way I look at it is right now every small little thing is a major chore for us.  There are many things I would like to do, and know need to get done, but because of the nature of everything, if it's not vital that it happens right this minute, it can wait.  I will take those things on piece by piece.  When I check one off it almost feels like I need to take a month break to regroup before I can take on something else.  So for now Kellen's room can wait.  Getting a hope chest for his things can wait.  Framing his pictures can wait.  It can all wait.  I know it may seem like right now we are just surviving and not strategic about anything, but everything we do or don't do right now is on purpose.  If we're choosing not to sign Farrah up for a zillion activities, it's for a reason.  If we're choosing not to overextend ourselves, it's definitely on purpose.  It's interesting because before this happened, I would say yes to pretty much anything that came our way.  And now I feel like I physically have something creating a barrier between me and my to do list.  Even if I wanted to, I just can't bring myself to take on anything that doesn't have to do with my faith, my family or my career.  I don't know if I'll ever get back to the "old me."  Not sure I even want to.  I certainly have appreciated the power of saying no to some things.  I have Kellen to thank for this new piece of me.

Dreams

I've heard from several of you that I need therapy.  Trust me, I know.  We're working on getting that set up as we speak.  Like most people that lose someone they love unexpectedly, especially a child, I go over the day before Kellen passed in my head all the time.  People tell me not to think about it but that's easier said then done.  The trauma of finding your son, unsuccessfully attempting CPR, and everything that follows is not something that's easy to get over.  I imagine it will stay with me for the rest of my life. I've heard many people say that in traumatizing situations such as these everything is a blur.  Not for me.  I remember every moment of the day before and the day of.  I think, wonder, question, analyze pretty much every moment of those days.  I try not to, but again, easier said than done.
But a few nights ago I had a dream.  Most of the time my dreams are so crazy and out there that in the morning I usually can't even remember what they were.  But this one is something I won't soon forget.  In this dream I met a medium.  One of those people that can speak to people that have crossed over.  He was an interesting looking man.  Early twenties, unkempt, stoner type.  I explained to him that I had lost my son and he said "your son wants me to tell you something."  I instantly saw Kellen's face in the distance and the medium said "He wants you to release how he died.  Stop thinking about what exactly happened and if you could have prevented it.  You couldn't have.  He said his time was up and this would have happened regardless."  That was the last thing I remember in my dream.
I would love to say this dream instantly cleared my head of all the toxic thoughts, I'm not completely "healed."  But it sure did ease my anxiety as we wait to hear the final report from the coroner.  Whatever happened, I feel in my heart that God had decided his time was up and nothing I could have done would have stopped it.