Dear Ian

Dear Ian,

So, Dad & I are on our European river cruise and there are reminders of you along each part of our journey.  We brought along our picture of you, taking you with us.  Dad packed your pullover sweater and wears it on chilly nights as we cruise along the Danube.  I saw pictures by that artist you like so much, Gustav Klimt and we ended up buying an umbrella that used some of his works.  I attended a classical concert with piano & violin at Lobkowicz Palace and compared her playing to yours - I liked yours better :-).

Last night we met a really nice couple at dinner, they too have a son you had a rare form of lymphoma but he survived.  When they asked how many kids we had, Dad told them three - as it should be, because you were a very important part of our family.  We told them a little of our story and they told us theirs.  Between our two families and our friend Erle's company looking for cures for cancer, and Deb's mom who died from cancer, we were the oncology table last night.

Then last night I dreamt of you.  I think that's only the 3rd time since you died but this time you were the young man I remember - tall and handsome with a kind heart and a big hug for your mom.  You were still sick but not like you were at the end.  You gave me a big hug (you gave great hugs) and said, "Momma, I'm so sad."  I asked what you were sad about, I know you told me but when I woke up I couldn't remember what you had said.  I remembered the hug though - that was unforgettable and it felt so real.  I think you told me you were sad you had to leave, you're not alone in that Ian; there are many of us who are so sad you had to go.

In a few days we'll be in Vienna and we're attending a Mozart concert that night.  It somehow seems appropriate that will also be the day you were buried two years ago.  Somehow, I think you'd be pleased.

Later on, while we're in Rome we'll visit the places you had on your Roman itinerary.  We'll visit the places you never had a chance to see and we'll see them for you and be carrying you along with us on this journey.

Love you always sweetie,
Mom

All in all, it wasn't a bad day.

It seemed appropriate that the house was quiet Friday morning.  If you know me, then you know I don't like the quiet; I'm a noise person.  Even if I'm not watching it, the TV is one, or the radio - just for the noise.  But this morning was different.  It felt right to have the house quiet this morning, much like it was the morning two years ago when Ian left this earth.  Eric & I took the day off, as we will probably do for the foreseeable future (warning to our employers - the Hassetts will not be at work on June 13 or October 24 of any given year, until we decide otherwise).  We still had stuff to do; I went to the gym at 7am as scheduled.  I debated whether to do this, but thought Ian would want me to continue to do things that make me better, so I went.  Eric did some work on the Artist Exchange trailer, which is his own tribute to our son and the legacy he left us.

I had gotten a card from a high school friend of mine with a note that she was praying for red robins for us today......Kelly, your prayers were answered.  Eric saw one while I was at the gym and not wanting to miss out, I took my tea to the front porch and waited to see if the red robins would come on this day, when we so desperately needed them.  I was not disappointed!  I love our little cul-de-sac with all the birds and chirping they do.  This morning I was treated to three red robins doing their morning routine; defending their territory from other birds, singing......I was very thankful.
But as the time was getting closer to the exact time Ian left us (do other people remember those kind of things, or is it just us?), I decided getting ready to go to the cemetery could wait and went into the family room. I wanted to be where Ian was when he died.  I wasn't completely surprised when I saw Eric sitting on the couch; we were in synch.  We do that a lot, without even talking about it; we both feel the need to observe Ian's life & death in similar ways.  This year, it was sitting together in the silence as we remembered Ian's last minutes with us.

Then it was time to go to the cemetery.  Hahn from The Back Porch created another beautiful arrangement for Ian's headstone.  This time she added something special, little pink flowers called "Bleeding Hearts" - how appropriate.  Between us and my parents, so many beautiful flowers for my boy.  There will be no doubt to anyone passing by his headstone, that he is loved and not forgotten.

We've completed the third (and final, I promise) move of Ian's art.  I think if I move it again, Ian may come back just to tell me to stop!  The office just wasn't big enough to hold it all and since we don't use the living room much anymore, it seemed like the perfect space.  We now have our own little gallery when you enter our home.  It still doesn't hold all of Ian's work, but we've devised a way to rotate the art easily. Here's a chintzy video of it, taken with my iphone.  The music came from a recording we found a couple of months ago on Ian's keyboard.

All in all, it wasn't a bad day.

It's been awhile....

We're inching up on the 2nd anniversary of Ian's death.  Two years ago today, we began the process of putting Ian into a drug-induced coma so he could leave this world peacefully.  We never heard his voice again after that day but we knew we were carrying out his wishes and that helped make it bearable.  It's hard not to go back and think of what was happening on any particular day as we neared his death, especially since I documented it so darn well on his Caring Bridge site.  I'm not sure if being able to go back and read what was happening is a good thing or a bad thing.  I think, even without those reminders of exactly what was taking place back then, Eric & I would still find ourselves reliving his death; maybe that's normal, I don't know.  I just know it's what we do.

It's been awhile since I've written anything and there are two main reasons: one, there hasn't been much to say; grief is a long, tedious road with uneventful days and two, I've been apprehensive to voice some of the conclusions I've come to.  I imagine I'll get some flack for some of them, so I've kept them to myself.  But I guess I'm feeling stronger in my convictions and ready to put to words what I've determined in my heart to be true for me on my journey of faith.  So here goes.....

I had read after Ian died, that grief will shake your beliefs to their very core.  You will re-examine everything you thought you believed and that has proven to be true.  Losing Ian has made me question and examine everything I believed or thought I believed, but I see that as a good thing.  I need to be certain in what I believe and who I think God is and what His role in all this has been.

The one thing I know, without a doubt is that God loves me.  He is a God who loves his creation, who knows firsthand the agony of watching our son die and being separated from him, a God who knowing this, sacrificed His son anyway so that I could be a part of His family and spend eternity with Him.

What I have seen, is His constant reassurances that we are not forgotten; even in our grief, in our questions, in our demands for answers that do not come, He is with us.

What I have experienced is the difficulty that some theology has caused.  Theology, however well intentioned, is a man made thing.  It is our desperate grasp to try and understand or define God; and it can be hurtful.  In man's attempt to make sense of God or to try and put scripture into a logical formula we can understand, we sometimes screw it up and we actually make it harder for others to come to God.

For today, for this moment in time, this is what I believe to be true (this is up for reconsideration at any time in the foreseeable future because, as a woman, I claim the right to change my mind) - I think that we (mankind) need to make sense of the world around us.  We have an insatiable thirst for knowledge (in itself, not a bad thing).  As part of that, we strive to 'know' God but there are things about God and how He runs things that we don't/can't/aren't supposed to understand.  Men in particular need to make things logical (cuz lets be honest, every different kind of theology I know of, came from the mind of a man) and in that quest to 'know' God AND make things logical, they try to fit God into an order that makes sense to them and in the process they often mess it up.

What I know, is that when I threw off the theology that made it harder for me trust God, to lean on Him; I was able to loosen my death-grip (no pun intended) on distrust and suspicion and remember the God I had known years ago - one that loves me, one that wants only what's best for me - even if it's hard.

 Historically, man has made it harder to worship and adore God.  We like to put restraints on how we get to God when He has made it relatively simple.  How many times over the course of history has man taken the gospel and twisted it and tried to make it fit into their own sense of right and wrong?  Just because we don't fully comprehend how something like predisposition or "free will" or foreknowledge works, doesn't mean those things have to be complex; it just means we aren't suppose to understand them. We feel a  need to dig & explore & expand our mind in our quest to understand God; maybe what we need to do be doing is expanding our hearts.  Sometimes, it's better to just let some things go (insert Disney song, "Let It Go").  There are aspects of some forms of  theology that have made grieving for Ian so very much harder than it already is.  There are aspects of some theology that turned a God who loved me and hurt with me to a heartless dictator who only loves some of his creation.   In order for my faith to survive I had to reject that view of God.  There will be some who will say that I'm just an immature Christian or that I "just don't get it"; think that if you need to.  There will be others who mistakenly think they need to persuade me to 'see the light'; what I need to see is God and what He is showing me through this suffering and pain, is His love.  I think we diminish His love for His creation when we believe He only sacrificed His son for 'some' and not for all.  These conclusions are not based solely on my feelings.  They are based on the belief that God's word can not contradict itself and when there are verses that contradict others used to support certain aspects of different theologies, the theology needs to be reexamined and questioned, not the Bible itself.

If you disagree with me, that's fine. I don't need you to agree with me.  I was raised believing that Baptists, especially, need to leave room to 'agree to disagree' on matters that aren't a salvation issue.  I hope that will be the case here.

I've heard some helpful messages lately, one from  Rick Warren (The Answer is Easter) and one from our pastor, Benji Magness (O Love That Just Might Let Me Go).

If you are struggling, as I have been, to understand God's place in the midst of suffering and pain, I think these two message might be of some help.  When I hear Rick Warren speak, it resonates so strongly in my soul; he helps make it understandable because he is walking this same road.

This time of year is still so extremely hard but even in the midst of it, I see small signs of
reassurance.  In our front yard are two Easter Lilies given to use by friends after they dedicated them to Ian's memory in their church last year; are almost in full bloom.  Eight of the nine blooms are fully opened and I have a feeling the ninth will be opening on Friday, the day we lost Ian two years ago but also the day Ian entered his own resurrection day.  The timing couldn't be better.