Good grief. No way there is such a thing. I have lived
with grief for the last 10 months, and I can honestly tell you there is nothing
good about grief.
It hurts but at the same time its powers are numbing. My
grief comes in waves. I never know when I’ll reach my crest or float to the
bottom of my trough.
For me, time has stopped. It’s the fall of 2014. You are trying
to piece your life back together. God has sent you to the Salvation Army for
help. Looking back I believe God sent you there to prepare you to die. In your last
days he wanted to prepare you to walk thru the valley of the shadow of death so
you would fear no evil and know he was with you
.
Sept. 30, 2014 was one of the very last times I spoke to
you, saw your face, heard your voice, and gave him you a hug. We sat on a bench
inches from one another.
 |
| This is the bench we shared, Sept. 30, 2014. |
I asked you about your daily routine and you shared
stories about some of the friends you made there. You proudly showed me the
bike you got from the thrift store where you worked and a pair of shoes you got
there, too.
I have those shoes in my
closet. I pulled them from the mangled mess of the car you died in. I see them
every morning I open my closet.
In every life there is defining moments…your death is mine.
The simplest of things makes me miss you. I hear a song on the radio, and I
think to myself, “Christopher never heard this song,” and I cry.
I cry for you brother. A brother I can no longer call, and
ask “what would you do?” I cry for a brother no longer here to see his children
grow up, I cry for a brother no longer here to help care for our parents, I cry
for a brother who is now brotherless.
People say it gets easier, and life goes on. I’m not sure I believe them. Good grief, it’s
been 324 days! 232 weekdays and 92 weekend days have passed
since you left us…and not one day goes by I don’t think of you.
Each time, "I thank my God upon every remembrance of you." (Phil 1:3)
Love your sister,
April
