Ignorance, Please

Rest assured: this is the ONLY context in which you will EVER see me champion ignorance. I despise willful ignorance, aka, sticking one's head in the sand. I highly value seeking knowledge; it helps to develop empathy. Empathy leads to action; it puts soul and meaning into our lives.

However, when it comes to losing a child, I prefer ignorance. My eyes have been opened to indescribable pain, and not only my own. Some people have done or said hurtful things to me since Weston died. Nine times out of ten, these people did or said them out of ignorance (making it more easily forgivable). And it is the type of ignorance I wish I had. No one who has not lost a child understands my pain. To wish that others understood me, I would necessarily have to wish the same fate on them.

I'm keeping this blog, in part, to create awareness and to give knowledge to those who seek it. If you have not lost a child, I hope and pray you never truly come to know what I am feeling, but it is important to know what to do and say to someone who has experienced profound loss.

But I actually do have a bigger point about ignorance. It is that I no longer want to know why Weston died. There IS a reason, I have no doubt. I do still believe in God, and I believe everything happens for a reason. However, when it comes to Weston's death, I do not want to know what the reason is. I have not really tried to figure it out, although I have kept asking. Some people have tried to offer reasons, and those reasons just make me feel worse.

I am a human being with human limitations. To quote someone (I thought it was Nietzsche, but he said God is dead) there is a God (see this post), and I am not him. Try as I may, I cannot see the bigger picture. Even after this life, when I join God and rejoin Weston, I might never see the bigger picture and might never know why Weston died.

So, if God were to tell me why Weston died now, it would not make any difference in my human mind.  Actually, it would probably make me really bitter. Because NOTHING is worth losing my son. It makes me a stronger, better person? Sorry, I'd rather be shallow. Weston would have had health problems? I would have helped him through them. I would have spoon-fed him all his life if required. The world is a sad place, and Weston is better off not having to be here? Well, then that is true for all of us. The world needs HOPE. Weston would have been bullied for being different? I would have kicked a lot of bully ass. God needed another flower for his garden? He's God; he doesn't need to take babies from their mothers to make a flower garden. He can whip them up out of nothing. I would have neglected Caroline because Weston required so much care? Our entire family would have been better for having a special-needs child/brother. Weston's death led someone to God? Sorry, I'd rather them burn in hell.

Before you judge me for that last comment, just think for a minute about it being YOUR child "sacrificed" for someone else's soul...And for the record, I do not purport to know who, if anyone, will burn in hell. Again, I am not God. Maybe that statement was a little dramatic. I have been known to be a little dramatic.

Whatever the reason for Weston's death, my human mind and spirit would interpret it as Weston being expendable. His life not worth living. Parents have hopes and dreams for their children. OF COURSE Caroline is going to cure cancer/end bipartisan gridlock/solve world hunger, and be happy and fulfilled doing it. Maybe she will solve the mystery of CAOS while she's at it. Weston would have done the same, obviously. His life was worth living.

Except all of the "reasons" for his death imply a defect: he would not have been "normal." He was too fragile. Life would have been too hard for him. Or worse: he would not have been a good person.

Now, we all know that mothers screw everything up. I have a special piggy bank for Caroline's therapy to undo everything I screwed up when she is older. So as not to offend my own mother (who did NOT screw me up), this is not actually true, but it is something that mothers often take on. So, to say that Weston would have been less than desirable, whether physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally, it means that I SCREWED UP. That I would not have been a good enough mother.

This post is pretty out there, I know. Grief makes you crazy. But, in my mind, to know the reason for Weston's death now either means his life was not worth living, or that I would not have been good enough. That is a heavy, heavy burden to carry.

So, I'll take ignorance. Do I want to see the bigger picture to include a reason for my son's death? The answer is a resounding NO. Weston's death is unexplainable. A friend once told me, "I would hope that the God of the universe would be incomprehensible and beyond all human understanding. Otherwise, why would he be God? And what would be so great about him?" So, as the one who allowed my son's death to occur, he does not need to share the reason with me.

I fervently hope that I am becoming a better person, changing my priorities, and gaining perspective and empathy. And I do hope that losing Weston deepens my faith at some point. But I am not Superwoman (or Super-Christian). I am not going to pretend to be all pious about this. In fact, the only one who was ever able to see the bigger picture about his child's death was...God. (And maybe Abraham in the Old Testament. I would have failed that "test.") Again, I am not him. And I am completely OK with that.

So, at the risk of being redundant, let me be clear: if I ever wonder why God took Weston from me, it is strictly rhetorical. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.