A Psalm 6 kind of mood

The past few days I've been feeling a bit like David in Psalm 6.  Today marks 7 weeks without Isaac.  And I think it finally sunk in. 
The first 2 weeks or so, I was so overcome with relief that I didn't feel the grief - I was just so glad that he was in a better place, not feeling any pain, and that neither of us had to worry about cancer or doctors or medical bills anymore.  Then, I went back to work and was able to distract myself with my work friends and my students.  But the beginning of this week it was like it all just hit me.  I wanted to curl up in my bed with my cats and just sob (which, I did last night).  The reality that life keeps going on, the days keep going by, and Isaac keeps not being here is finally sinking in.  Sunday I was sad, Monday I was weepy, but yesterday was the worst.  I cried before I got out of bed, while I brushed my teeth, while I ate breakfast, on my way to school, during my planning period at school, on my way home from school, in the car before going into the gym, in my car after leaving the gym, at the grocery store, and finally at home.  This song was my heart's cry: "Homesick" by Mercy Me.  "You're in a better place, I've heard a thousand times.  And at least a thousand times, I've rejoiced for you.  But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry, is how long must I wait to be with you?  I close my eyes and I see your face.  If home's where the heart is, than I'm out of place."
I know there are many, many people in my life who I could've called to come sit with me while I cried, but really - the only person I wanted to be there was Isaac.  I think that's been the hardest part of this whole experience.  The one person I want to be there while I am crying is the person I am crying about.

Really, I expected him to still be here at this point.  When we were in Houston in December, we made plans to return for another appointment over Easter weekend.  Isaac was determined to make it to at least April 6th, so he could say he was one of the 1 in 5 osteosarcoma patients to live past 5 years.  If you knew Isaac, than you know he was STUBBORN, and I thought surely if he set his mind to living until April 6th, he'd live until April 6th. 

So today, I'm trying to have an Isaiah 61 kind of day - "God sent me to announce the year of his grace— a celebration of God's destruction of our enemies— and to comfort all who mourn, To care for the needs of all who mourn in Zion, give them bouquets of roses instead of ashes" (v. 3) - and allow God to take my pain and use it for good.  I feel better so far today - much more emotionally stable!  I didn't even cry this morning when I pulled out the toothpaste tube and saw "12/21/09" written on it, which Isaac did because he wanted to see how long it took us to use the whole tube.  That's such an "Isaac thing" to do, isn't it?