I am trying to give myself hope that I will be lifted up, feel like more then I can be...but in reality, I am still waiting in the silence. It's Ryan I want to come and sit with me, and the reality of him being gone, leads to perpetual sadness within.
When I go to bed at night, he is all that fills my heart. I lay there, sometimes for hours, thinking about him and wondering if I'll hear him walk down the hallway. When I awaken, the first thing I think about is Ryan, wondering if I will ever wake from this nightmare. Throughout the day, Ryan is always with me. In those moments when I feel brave enough, I let just a little bit of the reality that he's gone into my heart, and in that moment, I am instantly flooded with tears of anguish. To protect myself, I put walls up immediately. I can only take this in very small amounts at a time. This is all I can endure.
God took my baby, He knew how deeply I loved Ryan, the pain this would cause, but He took him anyway. I will never understand the reason. I hope one day I can make something good come out of this tragedy, but never will I understand why. I look at myself...the fairly serious health issues I have, and I wonder...why didn't God take me? I'm 50 and at least I have had a chance to live. I have lived long enough to have dreams, and the experience of chasing after them. I have felt complete joy, and gut wrenching heartache. I have lived. Ryan...he was only 16 and his life was just beginning. He was a few weeks shy of getting his driver's license, something he was so excited about. He will never go to a prom. He will never celebrate his High School Graduation. He will never Skydive. He will never go to college and persue whatever his dream was to become. He will never graduate from college and know the indescribable feeling of "I DID IT!" He will never travel to other countries. He will never experience the complete happiness of looking into someone's eyes and saying, "I do." He will never have children to love the way he was loved as a child. He will never feel the joy of seeing his mom hold his child for the very first time. Is a mother ever suppose to accept or understand this? If so, how?
I know I should focus on what he did do, and perhaps one day I will. God knows he did more good, understood more about real love in his short 16 years, then many adults ever accomplish or understand in their lifetime. He knew what loving meant, how God says it should be, and he lived it. I am extremely proud of him, and so incredibly grateful that God gave Ryan to me. He allowed me to be the mother who would love Ryan like no other could. That I was chosen, to love and nurture this unbelievably special child, was one of God's greatest gifts to me. But at this moment in time, my heart aches to hold him again, to hear his voice, to see his smile, and for all he will never experience in this life. And in my perpetual sadness all I can ask is....why my Ryan, Why?
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