Primary Program Day

Our ward (geographical area) had their primary program (little kids 3-12 singing songs) a couple of weeks ago.  I thought I was going to fine.  We had skipped the first primary program after Ethan died (we do the program once a year) because we knew it would be tough.  Last year's program I remember being sad, but I thought I handled it well.  I know I cried during it, but it wasn't significant.

I guess I prepare myself for birthdays, death days and holidays, but I didn't for this year's primary program. I couldn't handle it.  I started crying and that was it.  I cried all day and into the night.  It was the worst day I have had in a while, and it has taken me weeks to be able to write about it.  I was so excited to see Parker's last program (his is 12 now) and watch Madilyn do her part that I forgot what other feelings it may spark.  I just always want to see Ethan up there.  He is still a very obvious missing piece to me.  I see the kids he was in class with and wish he were still with them.  I watch them grow and hate it.  I shouldn't, but some days I do.

Marcus and I have realized some of the hardest things to watch are those that include a lot of children in groups.  When we attend the school concerts we just look at ALL THOSE KIDS and tend to think, why ours????  What about that one--or that one??  Not that we really wish it on others, but we do wonder why it had to be our Ethan that was taken?  Out of all the children, ours?  Really?

Here I am 2 1/2 years later bawling at church (had to leave early) and one of my best friends pointed out to me this:  "Kim, you are the only one that isn't allowing yourself to still cry.  The rest of us are wondering why you don't."  I don't know why this made me feel so much better, but it did.  It helped me to realize that I am the one being hard on myself and not wanting to be "strange."  It is not those around me.  Those around me have shown nothing but love.  But, to be honest, I do cry.  I just usually save it for behind closed doors.  This is what threw me that day at church.  I didn't want to or know how to cry in front of others.  I was a total disaster.  And, if you have ever seen me cry, you know it isn't pretty.  I am not like my husband who can have tears streaming down his face and people can't even tell.  How I wish!  I pretty much look like a rotten tomato of tears.

I cannot tell you how much love I still feel.  I wish I could share the half of it.

Thank you to those who still support me and know what I need.  I don't know if I can ever move from those who knew and loved my little boy!  Much to my husband's dismay, we may be in this house a while.