Year Six

I remember so many things about T. and our family as it was six years ago so clearly, and yet there are many memories that have faded like construction paper figures in a sunny window. I get through the year with relative ease and have even found happiness and joy in Thanksgiving once again. However, this year the days have aligned to be on the same days of the week as they were the year T. died, and for some reason that has made a difference to my heart. Today I just want to pause the day so that R. and the kids will stay at school and work a little longer just to give me time to be still and quiet in the house. You would think that six years later things are easier. In some ways maybe they are. I’m starting to think that in many ways this grief journey will be woven into the path I’m on for the rest of my life.

I remember I had just bought the new MercyMe Christmas album that year, and I was so moved by the last song, “Joseph’s Lullaby.” We naturally think so much about mothers during pregnancy and childbirth, and Mary definitely is the focus of plenty of contemplation. What I loved then and still love about this song is the tenderness I hear in the words of a father to his infant son. In this case, Joseph knows that the little man in his arms is no ordinary baby, but aren’t all children little miracles? As I was listening to this song today, I held Baby S. in my arms as I rocked her to sleep for a much-protested nap. Her little blue eyes sparkled up at me as she reached a plump hand toward my face to touch my chin. I remembered Li’l G and Bud being this age and how long ago it feels it was since they were so little. And my heart just broke anew.

In the song, Joseph tells Baby Jesus, “Go to sleep, my son…You’ve got a long road before You, just rest Your weary head… Does the Father guard Your heart for now so You can sleep tonight?” I think of Bud, just nine months old when T. slipped away into Glory. I’ve always felt such a heavy burden for him and Li’l G, but especially him. I remember his sweet, chubby cheeks, his adorable mischevious smile. So sweet and innocent, so happy and trusting. He has had such a long road before him ever since he was such a little guy. In many ways I feel like he was robbed of having a normal life when all this happened. How would Bud ever know the love and nurturing of a father? Who would love him and dote over him, guide him down the road of life and help mold him into a man? Who would know what a precious little boy he is and be able to love him through the times growing up when he will be hard to love? Bud lost more than he could know when T. died.

Something I overlooked until recently is how beautifully this song parallels my own life. As much heartbreak and longing I feel when I hear this song, there is promise and hope in it as well. Joseph walked into such an awkward situation with Mary and Jesus, and yet God knew what He was doing when He set this plan in motion. No other man but Joseph would love Jesus as his own. No other man but Joseph would look down on this little man and see his own son in Jesus. No other man but Joseph would have tenderness in his heart for a child he did not help conceive. And yet, the words to this song reflect the sentiments of a man who will raise Jesus as his own son, be there to father him and care for him without reservation or hesitation. And in the words of Joseph I hear the voice of R. singing over Bud.

Why, God? Why was all of this allowed to happen? I can’t imagine my life without any of the people in it who have been in it in the past and who are in it now as I daily greet my future. I cling to them all with a ferocity that burns in my heart and sends hot tears streaming down my cheeks. This confuses me, destroys me, encourages me, and uplifts me all at the same time. No matter how many years pass by since the last time I heard T.’s voice, I will still never quite recover from the trauma of having him ripped from our lives. The hole will always be there even though the edges are less frayed and jagged with time. I will always have bitter tears for my children’s loss and what this meant for them. But alongside it I will always be wrapped in the tender, doting love that R. brings to my life and the fullness of life I enjoy again as a result of God bringing him into my life. I will always hear the song of a loving father being sung from the heart of R. over Li’l G and Bud, a song that no one else but he could sing. And in the sparkling eyes of my Jeremiah 29:11 baby I will always see God’s promise to be El Roi, the God Who Sees, in my life -- the promise of never walking away, of never turning a deaf ear towards me, of counting each tear my heart has cried along the way and holding them in the palm of His hand.

So I will mark, during the hustle and bustle as well as the quiet still moments, the two days that changed me forever. I will cry, remember, smile, and finally emerge exhausted by the range of emotions I go through each time November 30 rolls around. I will treasure the memories I have, faded though some may be. They will be pasted into the collage of my life with the vibrant colors of my present and the not-yet-defined colors that await me in the future. And so will pass another year.