Everyone wants to be loved, it is our fundamental and most basic emotion that we need to endure this life. Lives absent of love are hard, difficult and incredibly lonely.
I was in my late thirties, married and pregnant with my first child, when the unthinkable happened. My mother, my sister in Christ and very best friend died. That was the first time, that I felt to my core the absence of love. It was the first time that I felt truly alone and inconsolable. On that day, I could not imagine how I could possibly live this life without the one person who knew me better than anyone, including my husband.
I forged ahead for my daughter. I put a bandaid over that chest wound and busied myself with preparation of becoming a mother. I was fine. I functioned convincingly, until the next worst thing happened. Ethan had his first seizure at my dad’s wedding. I was forever changed that day. I left my body in anguish that day, hearing every voice around me, but incapable of responding. I only returned, when I heard the paramedic say, “your son needs you, please snap out of it!” He was right, Ethan needed me from that day forward. I became Ethan’s person and he became mine.
Countless doctors, a big from North Carolina to Georgia, with the bright eyed belief that I would find the answers that would take the seizures and autism away. I read, I researched, I consulted. He would improve and then he would slide back. Always following those seizures. I hate seizures.
With every setback I forged ahead, determined that the ship would turn for my Ethan. He was my focus. Eventually my body broke down, autoimmunity moved into my once healthy body. One month later, it became too much for husband to bear, so with a simple text, he wanted out. For nine months, we occupied the same house. He filed for divorce, I accepted without a fight. Why? Because it never should have been. A divorce was the relief that I needed to fight for my son and to nurture my daughter without the demands of a counterfeit marriage.
Life became harder, but then it would get better. Ethan would do well and just when I thought we had cleared a hurdle, there would be something. But we always rebounded. Always. But then one day, we didn’t. Ethan died. And once again, that deep gut wrenching hurt absence of love came back. How could this have happened? Countless ambulance rides, two life threatening weeks in the hospital. But we always turned it around. Until we didn’t. Why Lord, why?
I still think about that day and wonder why or what I could have done. I know that even if God gave me an answer, what comfort would it give me? Ethan isn’t coming back. I have to go to him.
So, when I prayed and asked for direction for Emily and I, He led us to northern Alabama. The one place I never expected to live but now can’t imagine living anywhere else.
While I still don’t understand why my life had to go this way, I can say that my soul is no longer wandering, because I have finally found my home.
In Christian love,