It is, after all, Memorial Day.

I rarely post twice in one day. I'm too lazy. And too boring, to be perfectly honest.

But I'm having a moment.

And so I will now act as if this blog is my journal. Here's what I write...

My house is so quiet. After a very full day of chocolate chip pancakes and 15 trips around the zoo we are finally back home and my two dearest loves are asleep. I, however, couldn't sleep.

My house is dark. It is Memorial Day. It should be sunny and hot. We should be splashing in a plastic pool and grilling the steaks we've been marinating. But it's raining outside. Lightening. Thundering. The satellite on my TV won't work in the storm - so there is no light from the TV screen. All is dark.

And I, well, I miss my boy.

I miss him so terribly that I wish (at this moment) that I could rewind time and say "No" to God. I know me, though, and in a few hours or a few days I will regret having even thought that. But He is a big God. A huge God. And He can take it. So I will be honest. I wish I had said "No."

I wish that when I was a child I had never told Him, "...everything...I give you everything."

I wish I didn't know all the verses to "I Surrender All."

I wish I had never heard that stupid song. Sung that stupid song.

I wish that it had been someone else He had chosen.

Another lady. With more confidence. More gusto. More fearlessness. (I even came up with a few names that I freely offered up to Him.)

I wish the only problems I had were having to buy new clothes because what's in my closet "swallows me" or deciding where to go eat after a nice night out.

Instead, I sit in a quiet place. A dark place. And I feel now, more than I have in a really long time, an overwhelming sense of loss. And I know that the flowers on his little grave are getting tossed around by this storm. As am I.

So I keep saying to myself, "This storm doesn't touch him. This storm doesn't touch him now." But it does me. In so many ways.

And I feel today like I felt the first time it snowed on his grave. And I cried all day for fear that he was cold. When clearly, he was perfect.

I don't understand why there have to be days like this, where the tears fall so fast that I can't even keep up with them. Where I worry that the terrible storm will affect him; when inside my heart I know it won't. Or when I feel like a part of my insides are missing. Today I feel every one of these things.

And my arms ache a little. That has never gone away. And though I wish him here...I said "yes." And I'm a woman of my word. So "yes" is what I meant.

Yes, I'll do this.

Yes, I'll walk this.

Yes, I'll trust you.

Yes, I'll learn you.

Yes, I love you.

Yes, here he is.

Yes. And Amen.

- Melissa