I've been to several counselors to help me through this grieving process. While I think a couple have been pretty good and probably helped me get through some of the darkest times, there was one who simply raised the hair on my back. After our first, and only visit, I left her office feeling like not one person in the world understood this sorrow. She who seemed so grounded, so peaceful, so willing to help one struggling in pain. We concluded our meeting after relaying to her the horrific story of my beautiful son's accident, hospitalization and then his death. I shared my pain, opened my heart and prayed that she would be able to guide me to clarity, to hope, to living again. As we concluded, with sweetness dripping from her words, she said, "we'll put the pieces back together." At that moment, I realized she didn't have a clue; not one iota of a clue....clue-less she was, absolutely clueless. PUT THE PIECES BACK TOGETHER!!! What planet were you on for the last 45 minutes? PIECES BACK TOGETHER! You crazy idiot. There is a HUGE piece missing and it ain't coming back in this lifetime...did you not get that! Exactly how am I going to piece my life back together when there is a piece missing, when my heart is gone.
I don't believe in all my life I've been quite so offended or incensed. How could someone trained to help people cope with struggles and challenges be so utterly shallow, so completely devoid of understanding the gravity of death.
It's been a while since I met with this impostor of a counselor, but I will not soon forget her cutting words, her inconceivable naivety in dealing with matters of the heart, of love and loss, of pain and sorrow, of life and death. I shall never forget her words.
I shall always see my life as one without its center, without its heart.
I miss my son more than words can even begin to express, but I carry him with me each day and know without failing that one day, one day, I will hold him in my arms again and we will laugh, and sing and dance and we will share in each other's delight and I will revel in his beauty and praise God for his wonderful, beautiful, awesome gift of Wyatt. My beautiful, precious son; my son; my heart; my Wyatt.
I don't believe in all my life I've been quite so offended or incensed. How could someone trained to help people cope with struggles and challenges be so utterly shallow, so completely devoid of understanding the gravity of death.
It's been a while since I met with this impostor of a counselor, but I will not soon forget her cutting words, her inconceivable naivety in dealing with matters of the heart, of love and loss, of pain and sorrow, of life and death. I shall never forget her words.
I shall always see my life as one without its center, without its heart.
I miss my son more than words can even begin to express, but I carry him with me each day and know without failing that one day, one day, I will hold him in my arms again and we will laugh, and sing and dance and we will share in each other's delight and I will revel in his beauty and praise God for his wonderful, beautiful, awesome gift of Wyatt. My beautiful, precious son; my son; my heart; my Wyatt.
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