Battery of tests

I Thessalonians 2: 3-5
God tested us thoroughly to make sure we were qualified to be trusted with this Message. Be assured that when we speak to you we're not after crowd approval--only God approval. Since we've been put through that battery of tests, you're guaranteed that both we and the Message are free of error, mixed motives, or hidden agendas.

Can I be trusted with God's message? I want to be. I don't want misrepresent my savior. I must admit I am struggling right now in my grief. I'm not doubting God's existence or Jesus's savation, but I don't feel like a Christian is supposed to feel. I've been here before, and I found my way to the other side, but this is different. When Momma, Phyllis, Daddy, and Linda died, I grieved, but this is different. Because Phyllis's work environment at Tinker contributed to her death, I became angry when she died, and it took me a long time to get over that anger, but this is different. In all of those situations, I had children at home. I didn't have any choice but to pick myself up and go on. I had a responsibility to my family to show them the way, to respond like a believer should when another believer leaves this life and goes to heaven. This time I have no desire to be the example; I just want to wallow in my grief.
We went to the mall tonight, and Christmas is everywhere. I can't think about what I need to buy without thinking about what I don't have to buy. For the first time in 33 years, I won't be shopping for Jason. Last year I sent a box to Nebraska. I had bought him a new cell phone that would reach home and sent it to him early, so he wasn't expecting anything from us. I shopped for a few small gifts for him and sent them to him so that he would have them for Christmas. I only remember a few of the things I bought--a piece of luggage, OSU shirts, DVD's of his favorite movies; the only one I remember is Young Guns. I wanted his first Christmas away from home to still feel like Christmas--never imagining that it would be his last. He seemed pleased to have gifts to open on Christmas.
I've read the poem "My First Christmas in Heaven" way too many times in my life. That is a standard among Christians to send to a person who is grieving at Christmas.
The sentiment is beautiful, but I am not comforted by it this year. I want Jason to spend his 33rd Christmas on earth. God created in us a love for this world and the people in it. I think he must have deliberately instilled that in us so that we wouldn't be miserable here when we compare this place to heaven. I may have to come to terms with the fact that I will always have this empty place inside of me that only Jason could fill, and that it will remain until I see him in heaven. Max Lucado calls it Homesickness because he says we aren't supposed to be comfortable here.
I don't know if what I am feeling honors God, but I know it would not honor Him to pretend I'm ok and everything's fine when it is not.