I'm tidying up for my dad coming down later this week.
I make the bed.
I had gone to church, they did a communion thing and I didn't participate because traditions for cults of human sacrifice disgust me. Everyone around me closing their eyes to the world for their own salvation disgust me. They're free, though, and what a world to allow them to drink what represents blood. Good for them.
I make a bowl of cereal.
I woke up at 9:something a.m. and still can't really read my book.
Then I get to Chandler's room and I'm inspired. I hang his little Superman t-shirt on the wall...and then put my Batman shirt up there. The last thing I did for him was change him out of his little Superman tee...and I strapped him in the car without saying goodbye. It wasn't goodbye.
Evil didn't exist then.
Little did I know.
"We're forgiven," they'll say...Christ was nothing more than a scapegoat...and they close their eyes along with every other hypocrite in church. "Do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to stand in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others," Christ warned.
Matthew 23:
"They tie up heavy loads and place them on the shoulders of others..."
Blame is on anyone else...
"Everything they do is done for people to see," they try to make themselves look good. Vanity is for this purpose, for the eyes of others.
"But you are not to be called 'Rabbi,' and do not call anyone on earth 'father.' The greatest among you will be your servant."
Jesus warns against even going to church. Be skeptical, that's all.
Then I'm in Chandler's room organizing stuffed animals in his crib. I lose it, and then I realize...I'm trying to stay positive, at least I have that ability...but as I'm looking at a blue triceratops with "Chandler"s name on it...I'm grieving.
Everything I touch...his tricycle...his game with different buttons to push...I'm grieving the loss of a child. And Corrie has no empathy for that...and her mother has no mercy. "You're not making me feel better," Corrie has literally told me when she was apologizing for overreacting once. That's why they apologize...not for other people. For themselves. Being "sorry" is selfish for them, and that's why they don't understand why I don't apologize. I try to think first, and they want others to be sorry for them. It's all about them.
"He wasn't blind-sided," she told my mother...even though I didn't even come right home. Had I known that I didn't know the next time I would see my boy...
Then I move his little lawn mower out of the way, and touching it gives me a flashback of little baby boy in the grass at my childhood home in Michigan. He would have spent hours just mowing the lawn. And Corrie didn't even bring that to East Texas. What does she have for him there?
They're having to leave the house because Chan upsets Memaw...even when he sneezes. I heard this on the phone...I'm calling every night to hear his voice, and Pawpaw tells Corrie Chandler is sneezing and upsetting Memaw...who is on her deathbed.
Then I see a photo album. Tears coming down my face being in his room...the photo I find that brings me the most joy is the one where I am pushing his hand down on a brick to paint a handprint on the brick garden I made.
That's it.
I replace all the photos of Karla with happy pictures of Chan. Karla is gone.
Out of sight, anyway.
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