Somehow It's Been Two Years

Two years ago today I was praying fervently into my pillow after hearing that my father-in-law had collapsed on the side of the road while out for a long bike ride.  Not long after that, I was sinking into a pile on the floor of the kitchen when I heard the words that Dad had not survived.  This news was:

Shocking.

Devastating.

Unexpected.

Unwanted.

Wounding.

My ten year old sobbed in anger and questioned God’s goodness.

My seven year old cried quietly, but then reminded us that, “at least Grandpa is with Jesus.”

Colleagues covered Bill’s shifts so that we could quickly pack up and drive to Louisville to be with family.  How did we pack with this hole in our hearts?  How did we make arrangements with this lump in our throats?  How did we function?  Well, I believe God strengthened us and poured His grace all over us.  I believe Jesus cried with us in our anguish.  I believe God is moved by our pain.  I believe that the Holy Spirit brings comfort and reminds us of the truth that death is not the end for believers.

Somehow we took deep breaths.  Somehow we clung together and made it through the funeral, the decisions, the old photos, the kind memories voiced by visitors.  Somehow my mother-in-law packed up the books and clothes belonging to the love of her life and somehow she kept going.

And somehow it’s been two years.

We may have been forced to say goodbye to an amazing father/husband/grandfather/doctor/teacher/mentor/brother/uncle/friend, but no one can make us forget him.  He impacted countless lives and is remembered so fondly by so many.  I laughed through my blurry tears just now remembering how he teased me and made me choke on my cornbread one time in a restaurant when he asked if I could “confirm or deny” my feelings for his son.

Well, Dad, I cannot deny that I love your son still.  I can confirm that he is still an incredible man who loves his family well, serves his friends, continues to learn, and shares his gifts as a physician and teacher in remarkable ways.  In fact, he recently walked with a family facing the immanent death of a child.  He can talk to them about loss because he has felt it deeply.

Sometimes I think we are all a bit mystified, maybe even a little angry that life goes on without you.  Some days are easier than other days.  The gaping hole you left is still there.  But so is all the love.  All of it.  And all the memories and all the joy you brought to us—it’s still here too. 

And so, we continue to walk along our path on this globe—aching sometimes, smiling other times, remembering constantly, striving to obey and abide.  Sometimes the only way to keep walking is when Jesus slips His hand into ours and pulls us up, hugs us close, and strengthens us with His love.  So, we lean in, look up, and walk on.