I don’t know what to do with this day…your “would-be-fiftieth-birthday”.
I haven’t found anything in the Bible about birthdays and
heaven. I don’t know if you age there or
not. I can’t imagine there is any
significance to your earthly birthday anymore once there…but it is still an
emotional day for us here.
Gone at forty-five.
When I turned 45, I spent the year keenly aware that it was
the age you were when you left us.
Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling. Too young.
You were far too young to leave us.
Then, I turned 46 and in this year, I have felt an urgency to LIVE. I have emotions of guilt that I have now outlived
your age here…I feel heavy responsibility to live for the both of us…I have
utter exhaustion in doing this life without you. Forty-six has been tough and beautiful, deep
and healing, difficult and reflective for me.
But today, today you would be 50. And I cry at the thought. I found myself mentally, emotionally, and
physically weakened with the knowledge of this date’s approach. Five years from our planned retirement. This time with the kids as they battle their
own grief monsters, complete high school, and launch into college is precious
to me; and it comes with such a deep heaviness in my soul. As I told you in your final weeks,
“I know with God I CAN do this; I just don’t WANT to do this life without you.”
It isn’t fair. It
stinks. It is lonely and more difficult
than I ever could have fathomed. Not
that there aren’t wonderful times and beauty and laughter and joy…but this is
HARD. Our constant awareness of you
missing from every milestone cuts from every angle.
We would be on a family trip somewhere exotic this
week. Celebrating YOU. Zip lining, parasailing, sun soaking, beach
volleyball-ing, carrot cake eating celebrations. Today just leaves me physically ill without
you here.
Instead, we flip through photographs, get lost in memories,
and smile at the sky hoping He gives you a glance at us as God catches our
every tear.
You are loved.
