Today I was talking to one of my children.
"This sucks."
"Yes, it does," I sighed.
Waking up everyday, realizing Caleb isn't here is just hard.
There are days I think I'll wake up and this will all be a dream.
The doorbell will ring, and Caleb will be at the door - Surprise!
We'll hug his neck.
Caleb will laugh and say, "Ah!"
It will be the greatest reunion ever.
But,
I know that isn't going to happen.
This present reality is still too hard for me to grasp.
It just is.
There is no easy way to explain, but I'll try.
I wake up and the feeling is there.
The empty, gut-punching feeling of missing Caleb.
Knowing he isn't here.
Separation from my child is too much to take in.
Numbness still hurts, but when it wears off, as it
does, the raw pain in my heart is like none I've ever known.
Like an open, raw-to-the-bone gash, as wide as the Grand Canyon.
I believe the pain is released in small increments because otherwise we wouldn't be able to take it.
I've heard it said, if we felt the full impact of this separation, we would literally die of heartbreak.
Sometimes it feels that way....
Heartbreak hurts like crazy.
Yet,
I have hope.
I have assurance.
There is absolutely no doubt about it.
I know that I know that I know I will see my son again someday.
It's the now that is hard.
It's the time here binding us to this earth that is hard.
He is living in a place where time does not bind, because time is eternal.
We are held here by life ties, responsibilities, and a path we still need to travel.
He is beyond this sphere. His earth journey is over.
Ours continues.
No, I don't have a death wish.
I'm not depressed nor do I feel despair.
Yet, in my little life here on this earth -
It's the now that I miss with him.
The now of seeing his face and hearing his voice.
The now of hugging him and listening to him.
The now of his life with us.
That is what is hard.
That is why it hurts.
On the outside it may appear everything is back to normal here on Paradise.
Things are not, and will never be back to normal on Paradise.
It's not a doom and gloom thing.
It's reality.
Our lives are changed forever.
There will be a vacancy at our table - always.
That seat where Caleb sat.
There will always be a lull in our conversations - time when Caleb
would have said something undoubtedly funny and profound.
Yet, I hold on to hope, knowing that he is not so far away.
No matter how I feel, he is nearer than we think.
His life continues to change our lives.
His presence is always with us - wherever we go, whatever we do.
His influence continues to mold us.
We reach upward -
knowing that this light affliction, this suffering we experience now will one day pass away, and will seem as nothing because of the glory we will share with Caleb (2 Corinthians 4:17.)
Our trail blazer is living on in heaven, and will be there to welcome us home.
Right now my heart breaks because I miss him so much.
In my brokenness I cry, "Abba, Daddy," and He's there.
My God covers me with his comfort and peace -
even in the midst of the pain.
Yes,
It is well with my soul,
even when the tears are falling.
This longing will one day be fulfilled.
I know -
And what a day, glorious day that will be.
