On the day of his birthday, Aaron wasn't there. He didn't drive up, honking his horn, announcing his arrival for his 19th birthday. Instead there was an eerie silence on a beautiful late summer day. He's gone.
Celebrations stop abruptly when someone you love dies. There are no more recent snapshots of the one you love. The pictures you have are the ones you'll have forever - nothing new. No new memories, no new joys, no new anything. Death steals any hope of your loved one returning.
It's not like Aaron called and said he'd be late. Heaven called and said he came home. It's been five months since Aaron died. The pain feels worse than it did on that day. Deeper somehow. How does that happen?
He's no longer lost. I can't seem to find my way out of waves of tears and sadness. I keep crying until I've exhausted myself only to wake up with swollen eyes and another tidal wave of tears and crying. Crying from the depths of grief where I've never cried before.
Cathy, Dad, Maryla, Aaron, Smudge, Disability, Loss of job, Physical Limitations. When does it stop? When will I no longer feel the punch in the gut or having the wind knocked out of me? When does grief finish or is it a lifetime curse until I'm in the Presence of the One I love?
A lonely day.
A sad day.
