I hear this a lot. It annoys me kind of, but it didn't used to. Used to be, I was the one saying it. Thinking it. Feeling it. Where was God on that morning in January when she didn't have a heartbeat? Where was God when I said goodbye to my beautiful girl, my only girl? Where was God when I couldn't get out of bed, when I couldn't be a mother to the 2 boys who desperately needed me to be? I know now though, that sometimes Heaven is silent.
Sometimes the only evidence of it lies in the wonder of the night sky, the twinkling of the stars. The presence of something that can't be of this world. You look up and think to yourself...yea, that must be Heaven. Often though, it's hiding. It seemed to me that the only soul in the world that mattered had left this cold, hateful place and brightened up the streets of Heaven. Sometimes, when I'm holding her tiny urn, and I'm standing on the waterfront...the place where love and grief unite...it feels like purgatory. I'm begging for Heaven's gateway to open so I can see her again. It doesn't.
Your urn is a promise that you are close to me, yet you still seem so far away. We celebrate your birthdays and angelversaries as evidence to those around us that we still care. The balloons float to the Heavens, and the flowers that celebrated your life wither and die. Perhaps the flowers are doing something we just can't. They've accepted that the only way to reach you is through death. They die so you may know we care.
At night, I am plagued by dreams of what could have been, what should be have been. I love them, but they hurt me. The interactions with women and their daughters that I see throughout my days become transient memories of my own. I dream of things I've done with you. No, I haven't. Those are things experienced by another woman. A woman whose daughter didn't die. I cling to these dreams though, revel in them when they come. The joy is gone as quickly as it came, when the sun comes up.
I've spent a fair amount of time yelling at the skies, offering a trade for my daughter. I'd give my life for hers. Only the love of a parent could drive a person to do these kinds of things, but I do. As is always the case, the sky doesn't answer me. Heaven reveals nothing of it's incredible beauty, of the light she dances in. Instead, it's answer is rain. Perhaps a response of the angels, of my daughter...who cry because I do.
In desperation, I turned my eyes back to God. He does nothing new, yet he provides me with the kind of continual hope that can only come from him. Someday I'll see you again. Someday there will be a sign. Regardless of what I say or do though, Heaven remains hidden, and you do too.
On my best days, I fight the silence. On my best days, I have the courage to say your name out loud. It sounds majestic to me, and I talk about you. I put on the face that says "I'm okay", and I do the day to day. When it's over....I go home. You're still not in my arms, and I'm alone. I hide behind the walls in my room, and I live with the secrets I hold in my heart. I pray.
It seems to me that you must be a step behind me. Heaven is so open and beautiful and without rush that you have no need to move quickly. Nothing is with urgency. Perhaps you are only a step ahead....always turning the corner before me. I think sometimes I can see the back of your curly head, just a step ahead of me, squealing with delight, tickled by the freedom that is Heaven, happy with the love that comes from Jesus. Or maybe neither is true. Maybe, just maybe...you walk beside us. Always hidden in plane sight, blending in with the trees as we make our way through this life without you.
Sometimes, in the middle of the ordinary, I catch a glimpse of a light in my minds eye. It's like you've dropped the lantern that lights your way. For an instant, I see your face. I see God. As quickly as you come, you are gone again, but you brought with you the hope that one day Heaven will no longer maintain it's silence. That you are up there, you are happy, and you are walking the streets of gold hand in hand with our Lord and Savior. For this reason, we carry on. We keep walking, we keep moving forward. We praise the Lord that watches you, that cares for you, and we pray for and thank God for the little moments when we get to see Heaven.
