Another Sunday

I have to say the powers in the universe aligned today to make church as bad a s possible.  The first was foreseeable.  I started dreading it yesterday.  Keith got a new counselor in the bishopric today--Steve Bond.  That's not the bad thing.  He's a great guy,  but I knew his parents would come for the occasion.  I knew his father would be ordaining him.  I didn't ever want to see him again--ever.  You see, while I barely know this man, he was the one with his arm around me as the alarms sounded in the CCU.  He was the one who had to stand and listen as Keith couldn't bless Ian to be healed.  He was the one who tried to say comforting things as I was curled up on the floor.  I knew I would have to see him again eventually, but eventually came today. 
And yet, I did okay.  He sat directly in front of me and we spoke casually.  There's no reason for him to know what it does to me to see him.

Then Keith announced the speakers, one of which was Mike Farrens.  He was Ian's teacher of record  (home room) last year.  It was him that said, "tough" when Ian said he didn't want to watch a movie of open-heart surgery.  Ian didn't like him at all.  Said he was always hovering--acting like they had some special connection because they had been on scouting activities together. 
I was dealing.  Then he started his talk.  It was all about the heart.  He quoted all the scriptures I had studied years ago with the word heart in them.  I wanted to leave the chapel, but I didn't.

The thing that finally broke me was Mikey doodling on the program.  He was drawing all sorts of cartoon people.  I looked over and they looked exactly like the figures Ian used to draw--on everything.  I can't even guess how many times I told him to stop drawing on his homework.  Anyway, I lost it.  Again.  It was all too much.  I think the worst part was nobody in the room could've possibly understood  except Keith and he was looking down at me from the stand and knowing.  I saw him staring at the man in front of me with a look only I knew.

The last thing (I hope, it's only 8) is that we went to my mother-in-law's this afternoon.  Sure, there were things that weren't great there--no big deal, but when we got nearly home, I started crying in the car.  I didn't want to come home.  I was thinking of where I could go or what I could do to not have to come home.  Ian wouldn't be here.  He wouldn't be with me.  He's not  here  now and he's not with Keith and Lucy at a fireside.  When they walk through the door he won't be with them either.