Two Months

Usually I get to Fridays and think "Whew!  I survived another week!  Yay me!"  Most of the time, we pass through weeks and months without realizing how much--or how little--time has gone by.

It's been different for me this summer, though.  Weeks have passed into months and now it's here again.  Another "anniversary."  I often wonder why we use that word to mark time.  It's a celebratory word, meant to mark happy occasions.  Sometimes though, we use it to mark the time that has passed since a major life event, as in a death that has occurred (the chaplain I work with explained that we use it for lack of something different, more explicable).

Today marks two months since A's death, along with the deaths of two other teenagers and the serious injuries of two more in the car accident.   I was going through my morning routine, then I wrote a check and asked Shawn for the date.  "July 31," he told me.  What?  Wait--that means today is....  Then I started crying during Praise and Worship in church and 'leaked' through the rest of church.  During certain parts of today's message, I sobbed quietly with more ache than I've allowed myself to feel in a very long time.

I think some of us--myself definitely included--are still trying to find reasons for the tragedy; we're still dealing with it on a daily basis.  For some of us, it might be a while before we're not dealing with it on a daily basis.  I miss A terribly.  My heart doesn't ache so much as it just plain hurts.  If I'm feeling this way, I can't imagine what the parents of those five children are still going through.  I pray I never find out.

Some days it's only in the back of my mind.  I don't cry every day now, only when something hits me.  Other days, it's front and center.  A isn't here anymore.  I hold my own children a little closer on those days.  I say a few more prayers than usual.  I whisper a few more "I love you"'s into sleeping ears on  those nights.  I feel it more on Thursdays at the center, where I leave quickly before it gets to be too much.  I also feel it more on Sundays at church; I'd stop going to avoid that too, but I know that's where the healing is (as it is at the center) and I know I need to face it at some point.

Until then, until I can find the healing, this is the moment I'm concentrating on:  It was the last official youth event I was chaperoning at our old church.  I'd just found out I was finally pregnant and I was no longer feeling like a good fit with the youth ministry (funny enough, A and our other adult chaperone were the only ones who knew about my pregnancy:  A had guessed by my behavior, based on the prayers we'd been offering up).   I was down by the small lake watching the teens who wanted to be in the boats and canoes.  I'd taken my camera with me because I was always looking for photographic opportunities.  I looked out across the water and there was A, by herself in a canoe.  She wasn't paddling, just lazing along, enjoying the moment with her eyes closed and a thoughtful look on her face.  I still wonder what she was thinking; I never asked because I didn't think she'd want to know I'd been studying her so closely:  I didn't want to make her self conscious.  Maybe she wasn't thinking anything, maybe she was just enjoying a moment made just for her by God Himself.  I also figured it was a private moment and teens need those private moments.  They'll talk to someone they trust when they're ready (you just have to give them a trustworthy person).  Unfortunately, the picture didn't turn out as well as I had hoped, but I still have the memory it serves.

A, I hope you know how much you are missed down here.  I know your work was done here on Earth and that you're more than okay now.  I love you, Sweetie.