Confusing

I thought getting the Scan news was hard.  That was easy compared to telling our kids the truth-- especially Caden.  I did not know how he would take it, but I almost wish he would have raged, and screamed, and kicked, and punched.  Instead, he just cried and cried.  It was hell to watch.  Keilie started to name all of the things that Caden would not get to do: mission, marry someone (she doesn't even realize that he hasn't had interest in dating, so he's never had a girlfriend, never had a first kiss), pester her husband, meet her kids.  It broke my heart to see how she's grown.  One of the times that we found cancer again, she blurted out, "I don't want to be the oldest."  This time, when the news was "official," she looked beyond her own suffering to see Caden's.  Shelby is the one that raged, and screamed, and kicked, and punched.

We grabbed a notebook for each of our children to write in, prompting them to write all that they feel, no matter if it was just a doodle.  How grateful I am that back in 2007, Randy sat down to start a blog and then made me learn it and take over.  How grateful I am that we have 9 books on a shelf right now that tell the story of our lives-- the good, the bad, the raw, and the ugly.

I thought that yesterday was hard, that it couldn't get much harder until the end, but I was wrong.  It was hard falling asleep last night, even with sleep aid.  I have started a very real schedule of sleep aid every night.  I kept thinking, "I wish I could sneak up to Caden's bed and just watch him.  I wonder if he fell asleep quickly, or if he is upstairs having a hard time falling asleep because he is thinking.  I wonder if he is scared tonight."  I was relieved to hear that he had gotten rest.  And then it was time for Shelby to say our morning prayer.  First thing she prayed for: "We are thankful to spend time with Caden before he dies."  And it felt like a bullet in my heart.  I almost didn't want to look at Caden when she finished, didn't want to see his pain at hearing the words spoken out loud.  But I did.  Two bullets.  And then I saw him woodenly get out of the car to stand on the sidewalk for his last day of school, face pale white, no expression-- devastated, and freaking scared.  I personally regret giving him to option yesterday.  I feel like we made a mistake, that we robbed him of his last day of Sophomore year.  Regret feels awful in the heart.

It is so confusing to be so devastated over my child praying thanks out loud for something that I pray for inwardly every single day.  My first instinct was to be MAD at her.  And then I felt such guilt for being mad that my child knows that she can pray for anything to our Heavenly Father-- who am I to tell her what to pray for and when?  I had to inwardly talk myself out of my anger and guilt and confusion.  It still hurts.  She is so young, and hurting so much, that she doesn't realize that the words that she innocently spoke to her Heavenly Father caused SO MUCH pain.  Her childlike brutal honesty was a slap in the face that burst my heart.  I feel so inadequate to help guide and instruct.  I have no clue what the heck I am going to do with myself, let alone children that need me.  I am so tired.  My pain is so big.  My thoughts continue to be consumed with Caden, now, both physically and emotionally.  I don't feel big enough to do it.  I am confused.  And scared.  And am trying to hold together during a pain that hurts so much already, but is only going to get worse.  I cannot imagine worse.

I have heard that the pain never really goes away, but it does get easier as time goes on.  But my question is very much the same as my children's: How can I live without my Caden?  What is our family without Caden?

How am I ever going to be able to move on?  I feel like I am dying.