Sucked out to sea

In the midst of a wave. A big, grief-engulfing wave. A tidal wave. I know May 2nd is coming up, but I think I was a bit in denial until today. I think I figured that if I didn't actually count the days on the calendar, then I could deny what was coming. And then today I counted the days. Only six days until Matt's birthday. It would have been his 17th birthday. My baby's birthday, my firstborn. If he were here, I would have been asking him about now what kind of cake he would want. It is just SO hard sometimes to stay focused on eternity when you simply don't know when eternity is going to become reality, how long the wait will be or how far away that reality is. I want Jesus to return now. I want to know what Heaven is like. I want to see God face to face. I want to know that what I'm believing in is real. I want to meet Eve and slap her in the face. I want to know what God does with these endless tears. I want to know what it's like to communicate without any misunderstandings. I want grief to be over. I want this pain to go away. I want death to die! This waiting for Heaven has made me realize all the more how incredible the faith of Abraham was, how broken, disillusioned, and grieving Jesus' disciples were when He died, and how faith is a fight.

The book of Jude urges us to contend for the faith. The apostle Paul reminds us that it is a "good fight." Faith is not easy, but as 2 Tim. 1:12 says, "...for I know whom I have believed..." I just never imagined the death of my child would be the means to trying my faith. I also didn't expect the temptations that trials like this bring. Tonight, for a brief moment, I had the thought, "I just want to get rip-roaring drunk and fall into bed and never get up or wake up again." Yeah. Really. Honestly.

I realized tonight, too, though, that it's not just Matt's birthday that I am grieving. It's also our wedding anniversary coming up (on the 8th) and Mother's day. Now, for those who aren't grieving, all of these things are joyful celebrations. But for the bereaved, it is no longer. We don't "celebrate" in the sense that the word implies. Instead, we now remember and honor those special days.

I am incredibly thankful that I have Tim (and GriefShare). As we stood weeping in the kitchen tonight, clinging to one another, I couldn't help but think of the widows in our group. They don't have their spouse to cling to or to cry on, to weep together. Tim is truly the only other person, besides Christ, who absolutely understands what I'm going through. We have learned much about grief these past several months. I wanted to write more, but am exhausted. Will have to wait for another day. Swimming back to shore with God's help.