I was living every mom’s dream.
Moms, you know that magical age around three or four where your children are potty-trained but amazed by everything, enamored and in awe with characters they don’t realize are costumed, get their breath taken away with every sports car zooming by, will wave at people passing by without abandon, will hold your hand in public and run to hug you every time you walk into a room… even if you only walked out two minutes earlier carrying a bin of laundry?
Remember that feeling of wishing they could stay in this perfect age forever?
Mine did.
I was gifted with the innocent, joyful, loving heart of a four-year-old for 13 years.
My Tanner still said “Whooaaa” when any sports car passed us and point until I looked; he would hug Mickey Mouse like a long lost dear friend; he would dance for strangers and bow for princesses; he would giggle and wave to little old ladies, grumpy men or kids in the cars next to us until they were forced to return the gesture and then gleefully declare: “Mom! Wave me! New friends!” I still got running, jumping hugs. Tanner held my hand and never let go.
Sometimes it takes losing something to realize how good you have it, how lucky you are.
Not me, Boo-Boo, I’m smarter than your av-er-age bear.
I knew what I had.
I knew how precious it was.
I knew how absolutely blessed I was.
And I lived in every moment he shared with me.
What I didn’t know is how soon I would lose it.
How empty and broken I would feel without it.
How much my joyfulness depended on his.
How the absence of joy isn’t peace but sorrow.
Today, living without him seems impossible. Someday, I will learn how to find ways to fill some of the void, to find and create joy in other areas, but the level to which I miss him is breathtaking.
The dream is over… I just don’t want to wake up.
**As an aside, as I write this, I am instantly taken to lessons of Heaven and Hell. It wasn’t the purpose when I sat down to talk about Tanner, but it just struck me so hard. I’ve heard time and again that hell is the total absence of Jesus. It is filled with weeping and sorrow. It wasn’t until this very moment that this truly makes sense.
