A Castle on a Cloud

About a year and a half ago I imposed the 'happiness' rule for myself.  The basis of this rule is as follows: idle time will be filled only with happy topics.  Gone were TV shows like Dexter and Breaking Bad and replaced were shows like Big Bang Theory and Parks and Recreation.  The same applies to the books I read at bedtime.  As I searched the library for 'happy' stories I realized I had a whole series in my house I could re-read.  The Harry Potter series is one of my favorites and evokes many happy memories of my college years as I would devour each book as it became available.

Having young children only affords me reading time before bed.  This translates to averaging two pages each night, nodding off to sleep about one and a half pages into the story, and then needed to re-read at least one page from the previous night to remember what was happening in the story.  At this pace, it will be a long time before I finish the series and need to look for another 'happy' book.  Owen passed away as I was delving into book five, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

At the end of book four, Harry witnesses the death of one of his classmates, Cedric Diggory.  As expected, watching a peer die is a traumatic event.  Harry feels isolated from his friends; it is hard to resume a carefree lifestyle after baring witness to such a tragic event.  Owen has been gone for almost two months.  Around me the world continues to move forward, but I remain consumed in the grief of missing my sweet baby boy.  

I think about Owen frequently, I cry about Owen daily.  I field questions from Ellie ranging from sweet stories about how she plans to go to Heaven and marry him, to asking when she is going to get a disease and go to Heaven.  In our house, Owen is still very present.  His cape hangs on the wall in Ellie's playroom (the room we had picked out to be his bedroom).  Last night we put up our Christmas tree and it is adorned with many of his cherished ornaments, pictures, and hand and foot print from last year.  His stocking is on our ottoman as I type this: do we hang it next to ours over the fireplace? Ellie averages two family drawings a day from preschool and Owen is always featured in them.  He may not physically be present in our house, but he is still my little boy.  He will always be a part of my life.

Watching Owen die, sitting next to him during his last few days on Hospice, having doctors explain what happens as the body slowly shuts down, changes your view on life.  I find myself silently impatient when I hear people complaining about trivial things.  My problems are no more important than the next person, but it is frustrating to see people focused on things that really do not matter.  It is as though I am now viewing the world through a tinted lens, they are definitely not rose colored, but the view is different.  When Harry returns to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the next term, he is shocked by what he sees.  After attending four previous years and riding in seemingly horseless carriages, he now can see the carriages are pulled by Threstals, animals invisible except to those who have witnessed death.  I am experiencing my world differently now as well.

Pete and I had the opportunity recently to watch a production of Les Miserables.  Our niece, Holly, was playing the role of Cosette and we were gifted tickets to watch her performance.  She was outstanding.  I have seen Les Mis at least five times and love the music and story.  This was my first time watching it since Owen has died.  Much like Harry, I was surprised by what I saw.  Watching Fantine die, witnessing her anguish about her inability to help her child was heart wrenching.  I could relate to her desperation.  She sold her body to make money to help her child.  There were no limits to her love for Cosette.  I cried openly as she begged Jean Valjean to care for Cosette with her last breaths. I was shocked by how much this scene moved me.  I have watched it passively numerous times, but for the first time I felt connected to Fantine and knew her feelings of helplessness.

As I collected myself, the play progressed and then Cosette was singing her solo, "A Castle on a Cloud".  As I listened to the words, ones I have heard numerous times in the past, the tears returned:

There is a castle on a cloud,
I like to go there in my sleep,
Aren't any floors for me to sweep,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

There is a room that's full of toys,
There are a hundred boys and girls,
Nobody shouts or talks too loud,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

There is a lady all in white,
Holds me and sings a lullaby,
She's nice to see and she's soft to touch,
She says "Cosette, I love you very much."

I know a place where no one's lost,
I know a place where no one cries,
Crying at all is not allowed,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

 I can clearly see Owen in his castle on a cloud.  My sweet boy who struggled so much for two years, is now at peace in his castle.  I can envision him clearly playing with the boys and girls, enjoying an endless room of his favorite toys.  His pain is gone, crying is not allowed, he is happy and whole.  It is everything a mother could wish for, except how I yearn for the castle to be here and not in Heaven.

The pain of missing Owen is consuming.  I am shocked by it.  After a two year journey with a chronically ill child, I naively assumed my anticipatory grief would ease the pain once he was actually gone.  Pete and I both feel it continues to be more painful the further we move away from October 16th.  The weight of his body is no longer fresh on my arms, the warmth of his delicious cheek is no longer present on my lips.  It is becoming harder and harder to conjure the feelings of his physical presence which means the reality is here.  Owen is gone.

Owen is where he should be, I do not wish for him to be back with our family.  We miss him so much, but it is comforting to know he is not feeling any pain.  Ellie continues to struggle with the concept of Heaven.  She often looks to the sky and asks us questions of where it is located and why we cannot go and visit Owen.  Above those clouds, there is a mysterious place she is desperate to explore; she misses her brother.  Ellie often looks to see if Owen is poking his toes down at her  and I pretend to look with her.  It has become a bit of a game for us, but now my eyes search with a new purpose.  Maybe someday I will catch of glimpse of Owen in his castle on a cloud.