I think my heart has been ripped out, torn to ragged bits, and I am desperately trying to tape, staple and hot glue the thing back together and stuff it back in my chest. Poor Aiden is having such a rough time tonight--he cried for a good 30 or 40 minutes at bedtime. It began during his bedtime prayer--we hit the part where we pray for God to watch over Daddy and all the soldiers around the world and he little face just crumpled, his shoulders started shaking, and all the weight of his worry came tumbling down. He cried so hard, saying how much he missed his daddy, how he can't take all the sadness and hurt in his heart. I dug out a t-shirt of Brad's for him to sleep in; tucked him into my bed, his little head resting on his daddy's pillow; put his Daddy doll in his arms and tried to cuddle him close and absorb all the hurt and heartache I could through osmosis, but it doesn't seem to be working. Even his sister (who was mid-poop and getting to stay up late) came in, crawled up on the bed, and patted her brother, saying "It's OK, Bubba, it's OK. Bubba sad. It be alright."
I miss Brad every day, I think of him constantly, but (no offense, my dear), my own hurt is NOTHING compared to how heartbreaking it is to watch Aiden muddle through this. He had been doing so well, it seemed--I had just commented earlier in the day to my mom that he seemed to be turning a corner and handling things better in the last few days, with the daily emails he and his daddy exchange. Boy was I wrong!
Aiden and I spent a good bit of time in prayer together tonight, asking God to give Aiden peace and rest and comfort, asking Him to take on this load for my little guy. It is my prayer each day--that my children never forget their Daddy, but they learn to live without him physically-present, gracefully. Please join me in this prayer--next time your spending a little time with the Lord, do me a favor--ask for some peace and comfort for my brave little guy.