To think that it’s been almost 7 years since Khoen died is absolutely heart wrenching. I don’t even have the right words.
And, I don’t know how short or long or chaotic this will be. There will be typos, I know that, because I’m writing through a stream of tears. So bear with me here...
The photo above, I’ve never shared. I have others, that I almost didn’t have taken, but I’m so glad now that I did. This is not the way I want to remember my son, but this is a part of his reality, and mine. Almost 7 years ago, on June 2, 2012, Khoen died. And on June 6, 2012, I had to lay his perfect earthly body to rest.
I don’t know how to explain it, but this year is different. Every holiday and milestone and anniversary has been hard in its own way. But it’s usually something that builds as time for that particular event creeps closer, and something I have time to process and prepare for.
June flew in this year and smacked me right in the face. HARD. I wasn’t ready. I knew it was May, and I knew it was coming. But life has been busy and fun and totally crazy, and I didn’t realize just how quickly May was fading.
I started today like normal. I had my babies that I get to love on during the day while their parents work, and I had Makenna and my mom here with me, too. I was about to eat breakfast and clicked on Facebook, and there it was. The picture I took and posted of the twins on may 31, 2012. The last picture I took of them together. And I realized there is no time to process the day that’s coming, because 2 days will just never be enough for all of this grief.
It’s like my mind was trying to avoid the day altogether. I’m weird, and I avoid things with June 2 as the date like the plague....down to expiration dates on bread when I’m grocery shopping. Last week I was in Food Lion and grabbed a loaf that had that date on it, and dug through that whole stack of bread until I found one with a date of June 1 instead. So I knew the date was close, but my mind just kept protecting me, I suppose.
My mind. That’s what I’m struggling with tonight. I’ve cried and I’ve prayed and I’ve gone through more tissue blowing my nose than any human should in a year. But I can’t shake it this time.
I read my blogs from when it first happened. I read blogs from other milestones along the way. I read details from those posts, and looked at pictures, and it felt like I was reading someone else’s horror story.
I remember Khoen. He is a vital part of my life that will never be forgotten or unspoken I of. But, I can’t see the memories in my head anymore. I can only see the pictures that I have left. I can’t hear his cry in my head. I can’t remember what it felt like to hold him. I remember the love, and I do remember the birth marks on his tiny little leg, and his perfectly shaped head that I would always just rub as he slept in my arms.
But details of what happened...details of their birth and of the weeks after...what it actually LOOKED like to see him smile, not just the picture of the smile itself....I can’t remember. It’s like my mind blocked them out, completely. I go blank. What life was actually like while he was HERE....it just won’t come to me. And tonight, that’s crushing me like a boulder. I just want to remember.
Four months isn’t a lot of time to make memories. And part of those months were spent with him in the NICN at Levine’s, so it felt like even less. But those memories were something I promised to hold on to. And now, I can’t remember. I would guess it’s some crazy form of PTSD honestly, because my mind seems to go to this weird fight or flight mode when I even try to remember, and I just, can’t.
What I do remember, is life after. The days and nights I spent alone in the townhouse while Dustin and the rest of the kids stayed with my parents. The times I spent in my bed literally screaming at the top of my lungs, begging God to tell me why. To give him back. Just screaming his name. Punching the pillows and hyperventilating. Crying and exhausting myself so much each time, that I would pass out and sleep, just to wake up and do it again. The not eating because food made me so sick. The huge, empty feeling, even though the world around me was still turning. The grey everything, even when the clouds were puffy and the sky was bright blue.
I don’t remember coming past that. I don’t know how I moved on. I don’t remember putting one foot in front of the other and just DOING it after that. I don’t remember finding a new normal with my children, it just found us, I guess.
But I do remember viewing his body. I remember the anger I felt at the other people who came, even though I knew they were there out of love and support. I didn’t want to see my baby that way, and I damn sure didn’t want anyone else to. I didn’t want ANYONE to remember that, as Khoen.
I remember picking out things to put in that tiny casket. I remember placing them around him until I knew they were right. I remember laying my hand on him, and the instant regret I felt in doing so. Because that wasn’t my son, that was only his body he left here on earth. And no mother should ever feel their baby that way. Ever. It’s just not fair.
Oh, my mind. It tells me again that I’m failing him. This year has been so difficult, because Mikah has had so many more questions. And I make sure I always have a truthful answer for him, because he deserves that.
I read in one of my early posts after Khoen died about how I hoped Mikah lived for him, since Khoen didn’t get the chance. And those words, spoken by me, hurt, too. I don’t want that pressure EVER put on my sweet Mikah. He’s Mikah, he isn’t Khoen, and he doesn’t have to live his life any certain way just because his twin didn’t get a chance to grow up. That was unfair of me. But, that was within days of Khoen dying, and breathing was so hard, let alone thinking. So I didn’t know what I was saying, nor what that statement actually meant back then.
My mind wants me to feel like I’m failing because I just. Can’t. Remember. Not the good times. Thank God for the pictures and the videos, because those I will always cherish.
But my mind won’t win. I know that I haven’t forgotten him. I can’t remember the little details of any of the other kids from when they were so tiny...only what I see in the pictures that spark a memory. I guess it just doesn’t bother me because my stockpile of memories from them is so big, and I pray it continues to grow and grow and grow.
It bothers me with Khoen because that’s all I have, and I’ll never have any more.
The why, that still gets me sometimes, too. Why my baby? Why my twins? Why me? Why my family? Why did my baby’s perfectly healthy heart have to just STOP, yet my completely shattered heart just keeps beating?
Those questions come in, and I have to force myself to remember the words to one of my favorite songs. It has literally carried me through some of the absolute worst days.
“Help me, Lord, ‘cause I don’t understand your ways,
The reason why, I wonder if I’ll ever know.
But even if you showed me, the hurt would be the same,
‘Cause I’m still here, so far away from home.”
Homesick, Mercy Me
And this one, which is my main go-to when I’m struggling and Homesick is too hard to hear (since it was the song from his funeral)...
“Why, the question that is never far away,
But healing doesn’t come from the explained.
Jesus, please don’t let this go in vain,
You’re all I have, all that remains,
So here I am,
What’s left of me,
When Glory meets my suffering,
I’m alive! Even though a part of me has died,
You take my heart, and breathe it back to life.
I fall into Your arms, open wide,
When the hurt and the healer, collide.”
Hurt and the Healer, Mercy Me
I have to remember I can’t ask why. I’ll only drive myself crazy. I’ll get my answers when God calls me home, and that has to be enough for me right now. And that’s not always easy, but singing that song, crying through the words, and just knowing He has me....that makes me ok.
But seven whole years...that stings. So much has happened. So much has changed. So much laughter and countless tears. So many memories, so much growing. And yet, on days like today, I feel like I’m still stuck in that exact same moment...I feel sick, lost, and broken.
Yet tomorrow, I’ll get up, and put one foot in front of the other. I’ll celebrate the weekend with my babies, and make plans of what we want to do this summer with them. I’ll remember Khoen with them, and I may cry with them, probably more than once. I’m a bit more emotional during these times, if that isn’t obvious. And, somehow, June 2 will come, and it will once again, go. And I’ll rise again, because of Him.
I can never be thankful enough that I don’t have to walk this road alone, and know that, when I fall, just like today, He has me, and He will get me through. Just like He has Khoen.
I miss him. Tonight, so much that my whole body hurts, and I just want to curl up and cry until I finally fall asleep. And, in all honestly, that’s exactly what I’ll do. But tomorrow will be another new day, and I will be ok.
One step at a time. One day at a time. One foot in front of the other. No giant leaps right now, just little steps.
- I know I haven’t forgotten, Khoen. I remember you. I’ll always remember. And I’ll always love you, just as much as the day before and the day to come. You will always be my baby. I’ll see you again soon, my boy...💙
