Celebrating My Son’s Life (A Year After The Abuse)

I watch my sons sleeping, and sometimes it scares me.  They look too dead.  Then I hear the breathing and remember dead people don’t breathe (or snore like little chainsaws).  Thank G-d my kids are still breathing.  I looked at my youngest sleeping tonight in the same bed where he was violently punched in the stomach a year ago, and he looked too dead, and I flashed to the alternate reality where he died at the hands of his abuser.

“Children have died from similar injuries,” the social worker’s words echo in my brain and images of the tube pumping blood from a tiny stomach haunt my eyes.

Now in my mind I’m at my son’s funeral.  (Why are you so morbid today, Rina.  I blame the Corpse pose.  Necessary processing.)  So I’m at my littlest son’s funeral beside his bed, and my body shakes for 3 seconds and it’s too long – I shake my head and get out of there, and I poke his little body to make him make a sound of life.  Thank you Hashem, you saved my son.  Thank you Hashem, he’s only sleeping.

I do wonder what will happen to the abuser.   What does Hashem have planned for him?  His trial is coming up.  Not even a trial.  Another formality in this system for “justice”.

Hashem you have everything in place.  You are G-d of this world.  You run this world.  You are this world. You are us. You are me.  And I am okay.  Thank G-d my son is okay and riding two-wheelers two sizes too big for him (with no hands!) and jumping off couches like Superman.

A year ago today, I got the call my son was throwing up and I assumed it was just a bug.  A year ago today started the “worst” year of my life.  But life is all about perspective, and the Truth is, a year ago today Hashem did a miracle and saved my son.  It could have gone so differently, but my son is laughing today and asking for marshmallow fluff.  That’s a LOT to be thankful for.  I’m pretty sure he’ll get all the spoonfuls he wants today.

Happy Memorial Day!


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