Monday, June 9, 2014

Punching Walls in My Head

I punch a lot of walls in my head. I'm not dumb enough to punch them in real life, I mean after all I could break my hand and then still have to fix the holes myself or pay someone to fix them all (since my hand would be broken and there would be a lot of holes). There are many mornings where I look at the smiling pictures of Sam and still ask "Where are you?" Then for some inexplicable reason I feel like punching a wall. I know it won't make me feel better, but it will feel better than doing nothing.

A lot of my work these days takes me to the cemetary where his tiny body is buried. I know he isn't there and that it is just a place. I chose that place because it was close and because knew I would have to go there. It was a discussion whether to place him where we often work or to bury him in Milwaukee near family. I chose close so that he wasn't hidden somewhere far away where I could pretend it was always too far away to visit him. Now work so often brings me close to him. When I am finished working I often drive over to him, walk beneath his tree, shed a few tears, scream in my heart and blow him a kiss goodbye. Then I get in my heart and try to do my best to drive without blurred vision. But truly, I would rather he be this close than far enough away to ignore or only go once a year.

I know better than to look for answers. My time is better spent fighting to raise money for a cure (even if it means growing my hair out and being ugly for a few months). My time is better spent making the lives of those being diagnosed right now better in some small way.

Sammy is always with us whether in pictures, memories or the ways Solly, Yael and David all individually remember him and say something about him each day. I just must hate unbroken walls now or something.

This is actually Solly a few weeks ago wearing Sammy's Angry Bird pajamas.
The similarities to Sammy in that moment was like seeing a moment I'd lived a thousand times.


  1. Yes, inexplicable in theology and painful in real life.

  2. Two thoughts:

    Walls can represent containment and structure, but nothing can contain your pain.

    Cracks are where Yah's light can shine through.

    As someone who lost a child many years ago, I can tell you it never really stops hurting, but it can become become bearable.

    May his memory be a blessing...

  3. I visit our little cemetery here in our little town in Honduras, so many little ones, poor ones, lost ones, friends and strangers, even "family," but a special place to open one's heart wider in serving others. You do so much. Do you have any idea how much of Sammy you have given us! You have punched many walls, and, guess what, we were on the other side.