I woke up the day of his memorial service in a panic. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for the finality, wasn’t ready to say good bye, didn’t have my words right, I wasn’t ready and wouldn’t be ready in an hour, or a day, or a week or a year. I’m never going to be ready.
But I realized, as much as I never wanted the memorial service to come and end, I was even more afraid of the next day, the day when it is all over, when I just have to sit with the emptiness with nothing ahead to look forward to; because as hard as the memorial service was, I knew what he wanted, I knew my brother and sister would share stories that would reveal what an amazing man he was, and I knew my pastor would speak and give hope and truth. I was able to look into his eyes as this photo was projected onto the wall and talk to him. I wasn’t ready for the service, because I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want it to be over.
This isn’t right and it wasn’t supposed to happen. The full range of emotions are just starting to come, the anger, the sorrow, the confusion, the despair, the fear, the doubt.
But the next day came, no matter what I do, I cannot get them to stop. Everyday, our last kiss is farther away. I keep talking about “last weekend,” but already our last weekend is two weekends away, by tomorrow, it will be three.
Keep us in your prayers. I don’t know what this looks like. I thank everyone who has pledged their prayers and support, and especially those who are determined to walk through these shadows with us.
I lost an amazing love and I’m so grateful to all of those who have shared with me how hearing his story, meeting him, or knowing him has impacted their lives. If I could, I would change it all, I would bring him back and Zoya would still have her daddy; but I cannot and so any good that comes of this, even if it’s a sliver of good, lightens my load just a little bit.
John 12:24 Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.