So today wasn't that great a day. I expected 5 to 8 inches of snow this a.m. We got rain. No biggie. Just one of those unpredictable things. No matter how much technology there is, no one can actually be certain what kind of weather we will have on any given day. It's beyond our control. Alot like life. And death.
We think we have plans. We make plans, but just like the rich man who stored all his barns with goods for another day, the Lord required his soul that night. No more "eat, drink and be merry."
When I look at this picture I am reminded of the absolute joy my son had on July 5th, 2004. He was on the North Shore Beach in St. Petersburg. If you could see a close-up of his face it was filled with joy and excitement. He'd never had a seagull eat a cracker from his hand. And here, one was doing it. In time all the seagulls on St. Petersburg beach seemed to congregate to be fed a crumb or two. When I snapped this photo, I had no idea how very important it would one day be to me. As a matter of fact, I had no idea how much I'd treasure that whole time in Florida.
There are so many details of that week that I cling to and try not to forget. I don't want to forget one single thing. Watching fireworks from Clearwater Beach the day before. Getting stuck in traffic forever that evening afterwards as we inched our way back to our hotel 6 miles away. Watching my son collect seashells with his two little girls. Spreading sand on each other. Walking and wading in the Gulf. Laughing at him as he caught them jumping into the swimming pool. Observing his tenderness as he bathed them, combed their hair and tucked them in at night. Taking the time to play with kittens on the front porch of a fancy restaurant, because his girls thought they were housed in that spot just so they could play with them. Discussions we had over dinners, lunches, breakfasts. The two day trip from Oklahoma to Tampa in our van. The endless moments of coloring with his girls and playing games with them so they wouldn't be bored.
And now, I had a bad day because I want those memories to be reality again. And it is not possible. I miss him. I want to laugh with him again. I want to talk with him and have him tell me, "It's gonna be okay, momma." But it's not going to be okay. It will never be okay again.
Life goes on. For everyone. Some folks carry heavy burdens. Some much heavier than mine. Grief is a strange thing. It grabs you when you least expect it. It strangles you. It nails your heart to some intangible place you cannot describe. It can't be shared...no one wants it. Not even you. As time passes, things do not get better. Time does not heal your pain or refill your heart with joy. In fact time is a thief. As it passes, it plays tricks with your mind. You have moments when you almost feel like the person you loved so dearly was your imagination. Memories become an illusion of sorts. You simply can't touch them...and they can't touch you.
You view life from an entirely different perspective. Months fly by and days drag. You pray and pray and pray. You focus on that which is good. The blessings of life. You cling to every nuance, expression and smile of everyone you love. You muster every ounce of memory cells within your brain and lock each up as tightly as you can. And you cry. You cry. You cry on the inside while you're laughing on the outside. You lie. You say you are fine when you are not fine. You walk on. You trust God all the more and yourself less. People even less than yourself--to them, you should be over this by now. It's been nearly two years, after all.
And most times you keep all the pain within your heart concealed from others, because others simply don't want to "go there" with you. Others are uncomfortable when you hurt. They somehow feel responsible for not being able to fix things for you. You think positive when you feel negative. Pettiness is magnified. Hatred is abhored. Mundane matters seem nonessential. Isolation is preferable to social gatherings. Pity grabs hold of grief's tail and tugs at your innermost being till you are exhausted from carrying the load. And finally you sleep. Deeply. Without dreams. And then you wake to a new day. And you thank God for the Morning Dew which greets you at the rising Sun. And you pray for a better day to come. selahV
