Tuesday, December 16, 2008


Okay, so if you came to Owen's funeral service, then you already know how I feel about God. (Thank you, again, Cindy for reading my thoughts and adding some of your own!) If you didn't come to Owen's funeral service, then you'll just have to wait until I've written more of my story (because the eulogy isn't for a while yet).

I bet you're now wondering, what is with the title of this post? Okay, so I don't talk about it a whole lot with anyone, but I have had dreams or a 'sense' (just ask my sister-in-law) that have ended up coming true or 'predicting' something. I think I am not as gifted as some (in the intuition area), but I have had some weird things happen in my life. Well, thanks to a dear woman that I used to work with (Darla B at Nike!), I've spoken with an 'intuitive consultant' one to three times each year for the last several years. Well, today, I went to see Suzanne for the first time since giving birth to our dear, sweet angel Owen. It was an interesting conversation (to say the least).

You see, the condolence cards, emails and calls stopped a couple weeks ago. Which leaves this big silence where the big black empty grief sets in. It starts a mind thinking about the whole (huge) list of things that my child will never do; that my friends and family will never ask about; and, gee, will everyone (but me) just forget about him and never mention his name or visit his grave again? Is it really SO painful for everyone else that they can't show a little compassion and help my heart leap for joy (at hearing his name)?

I'm sure that I'll still have this grief the rest of my life. Days where I feel so broken - with aching arms - just wondering when I will have completed His plan... Wondering what other loving, caring and compassionate things I need to accomplish to show other's just what God's goodness is all about- before I finally get to go home and dance again, with Owen. Although I know in my heart that Owen had his purpose here - the brokeness comes from the lost hopes and dreams - and the love that is diametrically opposed to any sort of distance.

So, back to Suzanne - in the midst of my deep dark grief, she reminded me of the beauty in Owen's purpose. There is a bigger picture - I had just briefly turned my back.


Trish said...

Shannon, I am sharing in this painful road. I shared tears with you today, reading your blog. I know the longing for Owen and I understand the depth...Please know I care and also that Max and Owen are playing together right now!
God bless,
Max's mommy

Erica said...

Hi there,
I am so sorry. I know how hard it is to see the "bigger picture" when grief is so heavy and so harsh to deal with...I think as time passes and the grief lessens, those reasons may be easier to see... I have yet to get that far myself.

sandi said...

Hi, there...
I just wanted to let you know that I happened upon the "NILMDTS"website (my husb. is a nurse in a hospital), and from there to your link from the "stories"...I just finished watching Owen's slide show, and i cried through the whole 14 minutes...I am so sorry for your pain and suffering, and wish there was something to say to help ease it...I am sure that your other son, Andrew, is what gets you out of bed every morning to face the day with joy...
Please keep the faith, and thank you for sharing Owen's life story...