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Will We Ever Be Whole?

 

I've wondered how long it might be until family photos finally feel like there isn't someone missing... 

It's been almost 9 years since my son passed away...and I still feel his absence in every family photo. Every time someone mentions the "whole" family...my heart still knows he's missing from me. 

I've wondered if it will ever feel normal that John no longer exists in these precious memory keepers? I've discovered that 9 years isn't enough time for absence to be normalized. Maybe 10 years is the magic number? Maybe 15?

Someone please tell it that it's better by year 20...

Anybody...?

Please?

My brother got married this past weekend and it was such a beautiful and wonderful wedding. I was so thankful for the opportunity to watch them vow to spend their lives together. But half of my little family was missing...and I felt their absence deeply. 

I'm sorry that I am the reason our family will never be "whole". I'm sorry that I've repeatedly brought heartache into our midst. I am sorry that I am still learning what to let go of and what to hold on to. And I'm sorry if you've ever felt like the collateral damage in that process.

I have prayed, so often, for each of you as you've mourned the little boy my body couldn't save and mourned the man who I made a son, brother, and uncle to each of you. I never wanted to be the bearer of such grief to you...I am just so incredibly sorry that my broken story is a part of your story.

But I am not sorry for all of the memories that we have. I am not sorry for the life that we were all able to live together. I'm not sorry for any of the time we all had together despite how painful the ending was. I treasure each and every second that made all this grief so very worth it.

Because of my attachment to memories, pictures have always meant so very much to me. John was infinitely patient with me as I was determined to capture all our moments in life together. I took so many pictures. I made sure that I retook pictures as many times as necessary until I got a great one. One that would be able to bring us right back to that moment. Because pictures are memory capsules and I was determined to never take that for granted. I wanted to remember, for always.

After John died...I stopped taking pictures. I didn't want to remember anymore. The scars on my heart had wounded me so deeply that I no longer felt the need to remember that time in my life. My friends and family sat with me in those long days after he died and we continually watched the picture slideshow on my tv hour after hour. We laughed, we cried, we remembered.

Take the picture...just take the picture. You never know when a picture will become a treasure, so do yourself a favor and just take the picture. Live the moment, savor the time, but take the picture too. I can not emphasize this enough.

I vividly remember the day I finally took a picture again. I truly saw myself for the first time in months and I felt so very sad for the woman looking back at me. There was no light in her eyes. Her smile was forced and the essence of the photo felt tarnished. I remember wondering if light would ever return to my eyes again...I wondered if it was possible after so much heartache.

But life is still so inexplicably joyful...if you just give it some time. A few months after John died, I was at the beach with my family and I took a picture. There it was...the light was back. Maybe a bit dimmer, but it was there. And I remembering thinking "I can do this...I can be happy again...it just takes time."

Don't get me wrong, time doesn't heal all wounds. I've spoken to countless loss parents and widows/widowers who have told me that the grief never fades, that the scars never heal, that they have no hope. But I didn't want to accept that as my lot in life. I wanted to live a life where the joy of the Lord followed me wherever I went, even into the depths of deep grief. 

So, I gave myself some time to mourn and then I chose that kind of life for myself. 

I chose to start taking pictures again before it felt like there was a good reason to take them. I chose to seek joy in the world before I felt like it was possible to find it. I chose to love the life God had laid out before me even when I did not understand His plan for it. I chose to cling to the power of the Holy Spirit that dwells inside my broken heart...the power that enabled me to choose all of these things. Because time may not heal all things, but God certainly does, whether here on earth or in eternity. 

With that in mind, I find that I have great hope in choosing to believe that my little family is, in fact, whole...just as we are.

Wholly loved...

Wholly redeemed...

Wholly seen...

Wholly everything we were ever meant to be. 


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