At times, I truly wonder how I can find peace with half of my heart gone, when I look at the emptiness in my husband's eyes and I am unable to ease his pain. I want to call someone and ask how heaven is supposed to make this better. Yet, I have no desire to be a summer soldier, a believer whose only faith occurs when the sun is shining and the wine skins are all new.
I don't want to have raised these two bold and brilliant souls to only shrivel up and blow away. Yet when the cracks in me yield to the pressure, I want you to know that I feel like I should just sit on my porch and watch the sun rise and the sun set opting only to retreat to the kitchen at the call of my son.
Reconciling the incongruence continually throws me into a circle of doubt and anger until I cycle back to the faith of my childhood.
I am often buoyed by the
efforts of those who love
us to ease this pain, convicted that I have not loved well
enough those who have
suffered loss. Their comfort and unending support truly
are the hands that reach in
and hold us together.
I often feel fake and dissatisfied when all the typing and feeling fails to bring a lesson on which to act. Tonight is one of those times. It's also a perfect representation of what lays in front of me, of each of us - to believe without knowing the answer, to act on faith even when it feels like a shattered vase.
Your daddy misses you, sweet girl. What a privilege it is to be the mother of the only girl in the whole world who could steal his heart, tell him what to do, and have him to do it. He loves you so.