I had a long, painful conversation with my sister who understands what it feels like to lose a child; she has been my rock. I know how much it hurts her to see me in pain. When she asked me if I had prayed for God to take away some of my pain, I had to wonder why I was holding on so tightly to my grief.
I realized that because people were getting back to the business of living, I was afraid that my son would be forgotten. That would be like losing him all over again.
The next day, I awoke knowing that my son was sent here for restoration and reconciliation. In the 6 months he lived with us before he died, he learned to love himself, and accept that he was loved.
I’m so grateful that God sent him here to me before taking him home.