“Her
absence is like the sky, spread over everything.” ~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Normally, I would be wrapping a
gift and baking a chocolate cake for Lindsay’s birthday today…anticipating the
glee she showed with any celebration…maybe surprising her with balloons like I
did last year…
…signing a sparkling, colorful birthday
card,
We
love you, Lindsay! Hope you have a wonderful day!
But there’s nothing normal about
life now…just hollow spots where normal once resided.
It’s been almost nine months since
my daughter died—the same length of time I carried her in my body before giving
birth to her thirty-four years ago. Funny, it seemed like a long time then—an
eternity now.
I watched a movie a few years ago
called “Holes.” The premise involved youths in a juvenile detention camp
digging holes for the warden in search of a buried treasure. Holes of all sizes
dotted the desert landscape for miles around the camp. Year after year, more
holes were dug, the treasure seemingly just one hole away, yet ever elusive.
My life feels like that
desert—stretching out around me endlessly—filled with holes. Just about the
time I think I’ve got a handle on my grief and perhaps back on level land, another
hole appears. Not all bad ones—sometimes beautiful, but bittersweet memories I cherish. Then
other days, like Mother’s Day and her birthday, have the potential to drag me
under.
I cry out to the only One who truly
understands—the One who watched his own son die on a cross over two thousand
years ago. You might be tempted to rebut, “Yeah, but God knew he was going to raise Christ from the dead.”
True.
But, as Christians, we also have
the promise of our loved one’s resurrection in heaven—and the day of our own
homecoming when we join them.
Lindsay was a beautiful, precocious
child who dreamed big and had the tenacity to go out and try to make those
dreams come true. Life looked bright from where we sat, the landscape dotted
only with hope.
We never saw the holes…until it was
too late.
Now her death is spread over
everything, and likely to some degree, it always will be. I seek to find joy in
my memories of her contagious laughter about something silly, her sparkling
eyes when she dreamed, and the indelible imprint my daughter made on my life in
so many ways. I cling to the hope I have in eternity. I praise God that ours is
a temporary life, one to be cherished and lived, but one we’ll shrug off some
day, like a butterfly does a cocoon before it takes flight.
Lindsay’s soul flew away last
August.
Until
we meet again…
Love,
Mom
Mom
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,
“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with
them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their
God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or
mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21:3-4
