The last two days have been strangely difficult.  Perhaps if I had gone somewhere which was the original plan it would have been easier.  But for some reason I decided I will stay and not go anywhere.  I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything.  I feel like I am in a completely different ‘time zone’.  Perhaps ‘time zone’ is not the right word to use.  But anyways that’s not the point.  I am just struggling to make sense of my world.  Where the nightmare of two years ago mixes with the present reality.

Two years ago I was lying on my death bed.  I was told there was a big possibility that I would die.  Was I ready to die?  Heck yea I was ready to die.  I was prepared.  I was ready to go home.  It was 50:50 chance of me coming out of it in one piece, of course the emotional pain not completely visible.  But I remember it so clearly as if it happened yesterday.  My mom came back into the room after speaking to the doctors.  I was confused why she was suddenly gone for so long.  I hadn’t realized that she went into the see the doctor until she came back and told me the reality of my situation.  Tears were pouring out of her eyes and all she could say was ‘If you don’t co-operate Hannah, you will die too.  Do you want to go home and plan your funeral and Sebastian’s funeral?’  To be honest at that time, that point I did not want to live.  I didn’t care if I saw the light of day again.  But somewhere from within I chose life.  Though death’s soft voice was calling me gently.  Gently to go home with him.  Then there was the other voice even gentler telling me to fight and to have courage to fight the situation I was in.

People from church called.  People called to see if I was OK. People prayed. People tried to talk to me. But I closed off my mind to the world.  I eventually switched my phone off from the outside world to isolate myself.  (I feel like doing that now).  Writing these memories down hurts.  I remember mom disappeared again and a neighbor came over and presented my mom with some chocolate and gifts.  My aunt came over and brought some more clean PJs.  And I just lay there, watching the clock tick by me.  I was trapped in a nightmare that I couldn’t get out of.  I was stuck.  I was drowning.  And time moved ever so slowly forward.  I barely ate.  I couldn’t make sense of the situation I was in.  It was so hard.  And it still hurts.   Hurts that my son had to die.  Hurts that he couldn’t be here to share the joy of life with me.

I should have gone somewhere so that I would not have all these emotions lingering on me like the plague.  Reminding me of what could have been. I don’t understand why he had to die.  Or wait that is what the devil is trying to tell me.  I know that that there is a greater purpose in all of this.  And that somehow, someday I will somehow be able to help others in a similar situation and guide them to the cross.  That is Sebastian’s legacy. Lord willing it will happen soon – when my book is published. ‘Sebby – Son of Hope’ should be released in March.