The moment I knew Jonah was leaving this earth was the moment I felt my faith and everything I believed in being ripped away from me. I questioned everything. I have wept everyday since he died, and wish I could hold him again. As I have cried and prayed and sought answers I have found some truth, and so much comfort. I am not yet at the point where I am grateful for this trial, although I believe that can happen, but I'm grateful for what I have learned.
I was with Jonah when he died. I watched him choke and struggle and slip away from me. That memory is so vivid that I feel it happening again when I close my eyes at night. I see it, I feel it, and it causes a rush of adrenaline to flood my body. It has been horrifying and each night I know this memory is coming. But each night I pray to God to comfort me, to give me peace, and the peace comes, like a warm blanket wrapped around me and I sleep. I prayed that God would help me let go of that memory, and I felt impressed to write it all down, every detail, in my journal. I did that yesterday and last night I laid in bed without my heart and mind racing, at peace.
Mourn with those that mourn
I have great admiration for everyone who has made the effort to reach out to us. The support and kindness we have received is overwhelming. It is hard to know what to say, especially when you have not experienced something like this. I have found that it is so meaningful to have people cry with me and to recognize that Jonah is gone. That does more for me than having someone try to explain why it happened or where Jonah is now. Those answers will come to me eventually. The knowledge that people all over the world wept with me at his passing and prayed for our family is indescribable.
I believe that life is full of trials, and none of us will escape hardship or death. I also believe that God is a God of miracles. Almost instantly I was able to see small miracles in the experience of losing Jonah, but I found myself saying "God, that is not the miracle I wanted." The miracle I wanted was for Jonah to be restored to health, to live. On the surface it seems like such a miracle would have done more for our faith than this experience of trying to make sense of his death and grieving. Over the past month as I have studied the scriptures and have thought about this. I have found many examples of people who saw angels, or incredible signs from heaven only to doubt them later. I can relate to that. After Jonah's funeral there was a beautiful rainbow that arched over our home. It instantly felt like a sign to me, almost perfectly biblical. A sign of peace and promise, but I felt myself doubt it as well. Perhaps the rainbow was a coincidence, simply a natural occurrence. I wanted another sign to back that sign up. I can see how relying on signs and miracles becomes an addictive game. On the other hand, the slow and steady work of praying for answers and comfort is a refiners fire. As I have worked at grieving, and understanding, I have felt a steady strength that I cannot deny. I cannot say it is a coincidence. I can only say that it is the love of my Heavenly Father. That he sends me comfort and helps me get out of bed each day. I don't understand why this happened, but I know that God loves me and is sending me small miracles each day. Sometimes believing is seeing.