Sometimes it hits me all over again, and I remember you’re not here.
I see your name, or the absence thereof, and fight the sobs that billow up in my throat’s stormy sea.
Like a wave the emotions threaten to drown me. Sometimes I let myself fall, hands outstretched in surrender, and give way to the heaving shoulders and eyes squeezed shut against a raging onslaught of salty tears.
I see the word “I” instead of “we,” and ache a little more. You were always part of something more, and now that part is broken. You’re not here to hold her hand. You’re not here to sign the cards. You’re not here to hug us so tightly it hurts.
But I know you’re not truly gone.
You are alive! You are more alive than you ever were here with us.
And I cry anew, this time with tears of joy.
You are with your Savior. You have seen Him face-to-face. You are dancing! Oh, you are dancing! You no longer wince in pain. You no longer wake feeling tired. You no longer appear gray and haggard. You are alive. Oh, you are alive!
I miss you. But I know one day I will enter those pearly gates and walk those streets of gold, greeted by our Father, and see you dancing towards me. We will run, and you will hug me so tightly it hurts.
I can’t wait.
“Christians never say good bye.” – C.S. Lewis
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