The Good ‘Ole Days

Today marks 2.5 years without my darling boy. As the 10th of another month dawns, thoughts are as always of my son and his last moments, yet I am reminded, too, of the tremendous amount of love we were fortunate to share with him for 12 years and 5 months. Pure, unconditional love…it just doesn’t get any better! The good Lord in His infinite richness and mercy, allowed undeserving ME of all people to be the mother to the one and only Joseph Carter Robinson. What a priceless gift.

I sometimes think back to the years spent with him and it seems surreal that we were that happy as a family. Sure, we had our share of hard times. But through it all, I got to come home every day and laugh and experience true joy with my children. Seeing him interact with his sister, cracking up at the hilarious things he said, being amazed at his cleverness and creativity, reading to him, giving him baths and rubbing him down with lotion as a baby- all of those moments are imprinted in my mind and treasured. It just seems so long ago- so much has drastically changed in my life these last 2.5 years since losing him to suicide, that it doesn’t seem like those times spent with him were honest-to-goodness parts of my reality, but rather, more like a dream…too good to be real.

If I knew then what I know now, I’d realize that those were “the good ‘ole days.” We often think back to yesteryear and become filled with longing and nostalgia when we recall our childhood, school days, and first loves. We think back to how easy, carefree, and innocent those days were and we long to go back. I can’t say that my childhood or teenage years were the “good ‘ole days”- you have read enough about my history to know by now that those days weren’t sunshine and rainbows for me. But, oh, how that all changed in my early twenties! Getting married at 20, having Carter at 23 and Caroline at 24, and teaching at my alma mater gave me unspeakable joy. My husband and I were living the American dream!

Sadly, we just didn’t fully realize it. Sure, we knew we were blessed. We were thankful. But we didn’t “get it.” We didn’t get how truly precious and priceless those moments spent together as a family were…we were busy, busy, busy and just caught up in all the pressures of life and trying to make it in a world that felt like it was conspiring against us at times. We hugged and kissed and said a thousand “I love yous” but more often than not, it was out of habit and routine…never thinking that there would come a time when we would hug and kiss our boy and tell him, “I love you” for the last time this side of eternity.

Nowadays, I view my life in 2 parts. There is the “before”- when life was good and we were a young and naive family of 4 that included a father, mother, daughter, and son. And then there is the “after”- when life is still good but we’re far from naive as we’ve had to endure so much heartache and brokenness. And while we’re still a family of four, it’s different now…there’s a father, mother, and two daughters. Our son is gone. A vital piece of our hearts is no longer here, and it’s a pain that endures the passage of time.

Yet, while my twenties and early thirties were indeed the “good ‘ole days”, they’re not over. I am still fortunate to live in them. I still get to come home to a husband who is faithful and hard-working. I have a teenage daughter who is kind and selfless and makes me proud of the young woman she is becoming. I get to stay at home and bask in the joy of my baby girl who lights up my days with her sweetness. I am part of a church family who strengthens and supports me when I need it the most. THESE are the “good ‘ole days” just as much as years ago.

I don’t have to live with regret and look back at my past and think that all the good is gone just because my son is no longer here. That’s what defeat looks like, and I am not defeated. I am not utterly cast down. I am not alone. I still have joy. I still have love to share. I still have my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And because of Him, I still have hope.

Dear Carter,

I sure do hope you’re at peace and resting easy, baby. I love you so much and miss you more than I can ever say. Your baby sister gave us quite the scare last week. For a brief moment in time, all I could think of was, “Lord, please don’t make me go through this again.” THIS, being the fact there was a chance in my mind that I was going to lose her. That I was unable to protect her from harm. The only time an ambulance had ever come towards me was when it came to our home the morning that we lost you. Something about those flashing lights coming towards us in Savannah brought all that fear to the surface…hearing the sirens just made me so utterly fearful that I was going to be burying another child. It was paralyzing. I was numb. Daddy was terrified, too. When the trauma doctor told us a few hours after the fall that the baby not only had a skull fracture but bleeding on her brain and was going to be admitted to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, Daddy literally shoved the baby at me and told the doctor he was going to be sick and rushed out of the room. It was almost more than we could handle. Caroline was white as a piece of cotton and so very quiet…just like the morning when we lost you. I would say that I can’t imagine what her mind was going through, but unfortunately, I CAN imagine it, because my mind was in the same place.

I’m so, so very grateful that Carlen’s prognosis is good… but, grateful doesn’t even come close to accurately conveying our true heart of thanksgiving for having more time with her and more joy and love to share. Losing you has made us all so much more aware and appreciative of each moment that we have together because we now know that so much can change in an instant.

Our country is in a mess as usual, but this time, it’s a little scarier and more grave as tensions have escalated with Iran. The threat of a nuclear war and losing more lives in the Middle East as our soldiers deploy is so very worrisome. I can’t help but think that while I hate not having you here, how awesome it is that you don’t have to worry about any of this mess. And oh, how you would have worried and fretted. You were so just so tender. The thought of you someday being drafted into war is unfathomable to me- my mind can’t picture you suiting up in camouflage and boarding a plane to go fight in a desert against people who are filled with such hatred for our country and flag that they’d kill you in an instant and not think twice about whatever torture they deemed necessary to inflict. The Bible talks about how sometimes the Lord takes people when they are young to preserve them from even greater harm in the future. I can’t remember the verse off the top of my head. I think it’s in Isaiah somewhere. Anyway, while I know that your suicide wasn’t the Lord’s will, He could have stopped it. He could have sent angels to intervene. He could have moved that mountain of despair and fear in your mind. But He didn’t. He allowed it to happen, and I think to myself sometimes that maybe it was to keep you from experiencing a greater evil down the road. I don’t know. Maybe one day I will get answers. You reckon the Lord will see fit to give them to me? Will He allow me to see what your future would have been? Maybe it’s best that I don’t know or will never know. Maybe it’s enough that I know what I know and when I get to heaven and see Jesus face to face and get to hold you again, none of it will matter. We’ll be too busy worshiping, singing, and praising to be concerned with anything else. Oh, what a glorious day that will be!!

Thank you for giving me such joy unspeakable. Thank you for showing me love every single day. I decorated the kitchen shelving unit yesterday with Valentine’s Day in mind…lots of little things that remind me of love, including a couple of pictures of Daddy and me. While scrolling through my phone tonight I came across a picture of you and Caroline and I saw it in an entirely new light and can’t wait to get it printed to add to the pictures on the shelf. It was from the photo session out in the cemetery when we had just moved into the new house. Caroline had her arms wrapped around you and it was as if your heads were the upper humps of a heart and her arms formed the point at the bottom. I am so thankful the Lord allows me to see things in new ways and gives me fresh perspective. It sure does help my hurting heart on days like today to be reminded of all my blessings and to feel peace and comfort knowing that one day soon I’ll be reunited with my bestest boy. I love you so much, Carterbug. You’re always in my heart and forever on my mind, buddy. Always.

Love,

Mama