Freedom

Last week my family sat in the conference room at the Victim-Witness Center in the DA’s office.  We talked about what we could expect over the next year.  He told us it would be a long process.  Done in a year if we are lucky.  The Victim Advocate reminded us that even then it won’t make everything better.  We already knew that.  No matter what happens – Jace will never be back, and that is the only thing we want. 

The ADA talked about life sentences and how sometimes it can be hard for a jury to come to grips with someone young spending the rest of his or her life in prison.  I wanted to stand on the table and scream, “WHAT ABOUT US!  WE’VE BEEN SENTENCED TO A LIFE OF UNHAPPINESS!”  We are locked in the prison of our pain. 

There have been moments over the last six weeks that I felt death would be a blessing.  That I would only be able to spend the rest of my breathing moments waiting for my time to leave this world and this pain behind.  There have been times I felt envious of my dad.  He has a 60% chance of getting to see Jace in the next year if the cancer wins. I don’t want to have to feel like this.  No one should have to feel like this.  This is no way to live. 

The thing is, I haven’t been found guilty.  My life doesn’t have to end, even though it feels like it’s over.  If I continue to let pain bind me forever, it will be because I refuse to use the key I’m holding to unlock the chains.  So I’m not going to sit around waiting to die.  I’m going to do things that make me happy.  I’m not going to spend time being hurt by people I don’t need or getting angry about things that won’t matter next week.  I’m not going to hide for fear of what others might think.  I won’t feel guilty because I’m alive or because I can smile when the sun hits my face, because in living each day – I glorify God. 

I will write.  I will sing off key and laugh too loud.  I will tell jokes that everyone will have to stop and think about before deciding they are funny.  I will play with children.  I will give money and time away to  people who don’t deserve it.  I will go to church.  I will eat pizza and feel guilty for not feeling guilty.  I will cuss because I want to be funny but never because I’m angry.  I will make everyone I just ate dinner with put their hands in the middle of a circle outside the restaurant and shout, “Justin Beiber!” on three.  I will drink Starbucks.  I will spend time with people who make me feel good.  I will travel.  I will cry at the Wailing Wall and swim in the ocean.  I will wish I hadn’t when I can’t get all the sand out of that crevice sand should never go in.  I will get lost in good books and long for someone to kiss me goodnight. 

And I will cry.

I will mourn.

I will let the sadness have its moment each day.

 I will miss him and dream about him when I sleep.

I will get choked up when my best friend’s children get on the phone and say, “Hi, Aunt Stacey.”

These are things I must do.  This is what is right.  This is how I will be set free.