A year ago today, I saw my father-in-law dance with my girls for the last time.
A year ago today, we were expecting to meet Lily, our unborn niece, in a few months time.
A year ago today, we did not know loss.
Today, on the year anniversary of my grandmother's passing, it is hard not to be sad. I have been sad throughout the year, but this day brings about a different emotion. I find myself longing for the day before. A day when our family did not know the difficulties we would face in the next few months. A grandmother's comforting voice silenced. A niece that would live for only 4 months. A father-in-law that would pass away after an immense physical struggle with cancer. A Christmas Eve that involved a funeral. I want the day before back when we did not know these emotions. I can imagine that is what heaven will feel like. An immediate erasure of pain. Erasing the pain of loss. Erasing the pain of regret. Erasing the pain of separation.
It has been amazing to see how God has provided ways of comfort over the last few months. For instance, on that very dreary, cold and rainy Christmas Eve, we were at the graveside services for Marty's dad. Because of the rain, we were crowded under the tent, and we closed in tight to make the most room. Grave side services are truly the most difficult part of a funeral, and when you are sitting so close to the casket with the family, you find yourself looking anywhere but at the casket. Since we were so crowded, I was actually sitting on the end of the row with my elbow resting on a tombstone. When my eyes began to wander, I took in the name on this tomb stone. JoAnn. The name of my grandmother. I couldn't even see her last name, only JoAnn. In that moment, I knew that God would give us the grace to see through our losses. I knew that God understood our pain, and cared enough to comfort us in the big and small ways that would see us through the next few weeks.
So many details orchestrated that event: my in-laws bought their plots years ago, it had to be raining, it had to be crowded, I had to sit on the front row, I had to sit on the end seat, I had to look. Now when we visit Marty's dad's grave, I find myself looking over at JoAnn and I know that God provided a place for me to honor her there, since I can't visit her actual grave. We truly are in God's hands and always at his mercy. I know this in an entirely more real way than I did a year ago today. And for that, I am grateful.
2 comments:
Great post, Shannon! I hope 2011 is a million times easier for you! Your family has certainly been through enough!!
thank you for the a picture of grief that is beautiful because of relationships that have been real and true. read "room of marvels" if you get a chance. you could have probably written it :)
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