So the horrible story about little Evan has really just broken my heart. I don’t know why this hits so close to home with me. Maybe because it’s a boy and he’s so close in age to Tino. Maybe because it happened here in my home state.
I read his mother’s description of her last hours with him and even though I won the battle of fighting back tears all day at work I completely lost the war after I picked Tino up from daycare. I kissed him and hugged him tight by the car. Then I strapped him in. Once I got in the car I put some music on for him and cried the 15 minutes home. The tears were cleansing.
My last few hours with my son I would also need to be the one to take him off life support. I would craddle him for hours. I would bathe him one last time. I would dress him in warm clothes. I would place him gently in the bag, kiss him one last time, zip him up and watch them wheel him away. Even after his beautiful and boisterous little spirit left this world I'd care for his little body with the love, respect and dignity it deserves. After all I’m his mother.
In those moments when the tears just streamed down my face I thanked God for my son. I begged Him to always keep him safe. In the darkness of my human heart I sinned and swore vengeance, justice and murder on any evil that would ever dare harm my child. And I clung to the hope that if anything horrible happened to our family that God is strong enough to get us through it.
However, a very tenderhearted person told me yesterday that if she ever lost her child in that way she’d never want to smile again. I can’t help but feel the exact same way. I’m not sure I’d want to live another moment without my beautiful baby boy. God forgive me for such thoughts.