All that being said let's cut to the chase. It's 10:33pm and I am angry. I'm angry because I suck at dancing. I'm angry because I don't feel lifted up today. I'm angry because my cats won't stop fighting (I just threw a screwdriver at one so it would stop hissing at another one). I'm angry because I want to drink but I know it won't solve anything. I'm angry because yesterday marked two months ago that I buried my newborn son and I don't feel any better than I did 64 days ago. I'm angry because I just don't understand salvation. It just doesn't make sense to me. Why can't I wrap my mind around it? Why can't I focus on the positive and push away from the negative? Why is it that I drove 115mph down Highway 78 tonight with no concern that something tragic might happen? Something is wrong when you aren't pushing yourself towards death but you aren't steering away from it. It's a dangerous feeling when you don't care about living anymore. (To those reading this please do not misinterpret this, I am not asking for aide and this is not a suicidal cry for help.) I'm just saying when you are in a room with Death and He takes something from you that you have waited for almost your whole life, your natural instinct is to follow Him. Let this be known: I AM NOT AFRAID OF HIM. 64 days ago I saw my boy slip away into Death's cowl when I bundled him up and gave him away... 64 days.
The morning after Evan's passing was erratic to the say the least. Nothing seemed like it would slow down although the environment was relatively tranquil. Within those four walls in the post-partem wing it appeared as anything but. I was constantly riddled with anxiety and adjusting to my new identity as "Chris Cornett-Evan's Father-the man who just lost his infant son". I'm glad I don't have to file for a legal proclamation stating that as I would grow tired of all that inscription. (I loathe my handwriting by the way).
That day would also be the second to last day in the hospital as well. It was filled with a few different episodes that I can vaguely remember but one of which was getting a phone call from the Birth Records department for me to come and fill out our request for his birth certificates and the second of which was my solitary trip to the chapel. When I got there I turned the pages to read Philippians 4:6-7 and to apologize to God for being a terrible student and child. Anybody who knows me, who REALLY knows me, understands that I have been anything but a steward of good deeds or good faith. If you are reading this my words do not deserve your attention, my despair is not worthy of your pity and my tears are not worthy of your drying. I say that honestly without asking for your empathy. I know I am at the core of my being I am a bad person and that realization is what brought me to the next moment.
I fell to my knees before the pulpit there and the stained glass and just asked God to pick me up when I could not carry myself any further. I had reached that point. I'm not sure if it was due to malnutrition from the hospital food or just the waves of grief crashing over me but I was weak enough where I felt as I if I was too tired to move forward. I realized in order to move further, to traverse over the terrain that was ahead of me it was time for me to ask Jesus to take control. I was giving it up to Him. I was placing myself in His hands and letting Him be my guide. I had been following my own instruction and my twisted compass for far too long. When you have that "A-HA!" moment, when that bulb goes off in your mind, that catalytic spark ignites a fire spreading like contagion, it simply cannot be stopped. That is when the Spirit is moving within you. He is guiding you like a plane on auto-pilot, signaling you to do only what is necessary when it necessary and where it is necessary. He thins out all the chaff so all you are left with is exactly what you need. He helps you declutter your life. I rose back to my feet and I marched back to my wife's bedside through parades of pink and balloons and hallways filled with newborn children. Being in a place where babies are born and you don't get to keep yours is akin to the moment when you see a contestant on a game show leave with no parting gifts. It's like that moment on Wheel of Fortune when the contestant spins the wheel only to find out that they've landed on the "Bankrupt" marker. You're just left with that "awwwwwww man" feeling. Obviously this is a gross understatement but you should at least understand what I mean here.
No grand prize, no baby; just blankets, hats and empty arms. Empty arms and a quiet house. Those were my parting gifts. Now, don't get me wrong I'm grateful for the time I had with Evan, I am. I just was hoping for more. I'm not saying I deserved more, because I didn't. I don't feel like I'm worthy of parenting a second child either and that's what gets me about salvation. I'm not worthy of it. NOBODY IS! It's a gift that has been bestowed upon us that we don't deserve but it's ours for the taking as long as we want it. It's something my mind literally cannot comprehend. I can honestly say I find more struggle in this contemplation than I do comfort.
I was planning on writing more about Evan's funeral but I feel more differently right now than I did an hour ago. It was a crazy day. It was fast and it was furious. It was beautiful and it was terrible. It was everything I want to remember and everything I wanted to forget. It changed me. Looking at that tiny little box that housed my son's remains and the tomb in which he was being set into changed me. I realized that just like David in the book of 2 Samuel, he and I like were alike.
2 Samuel 12:22-23
22 He said, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept, for I said, ‘Who knows whether the Lord will be gracious to me, that the child may live?’ 23 But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.”
I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.
There is a long road ahead of me my friends and all I ask is that if you see me having trouble standing on my two feet, give your brother a hand.
