…weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5.
Eleven years ago – a lifetime ago – Chuck died.
Initially, the anniversary of his death tore through me. But as I have healed and new life has blossomed, the anniversary of his death has become a sweet day – a day spent celebrating him – his life – his outrageous antics – and the thousands of ways he touched my life. It has been a day of basking in gratitude.
But this year is different. It could be the evidence of the passing years…faint lines around my eyes, darkening spots on my hands, shiny silver in my hair. It could be the new season of life – plans for retirement…dreams of life on the road…all reminders that I am living life without him. Where the hell is he? He promised to be here for all of this.
Or, it could be nothing at all, because grief is funny that way.
But this year, I am feeling the weight of the loss of Chuck. And I can barely breathe. At some point in grieving him, the pain was swallowed by the beauty of life with Phil and the girls…Chuck’s fingerprints sweetly evident on every surface…though smudged and faint. And somehow I forgot that one day, life went terribly wrong.
In the days leading up to August 20th, I’ve remembered. I’ve remembered the sweetness of giving oneself over to the sadness…losing oneself in the weeping…and the peace that follows. God is indeed close to those who are crushed in spirit.
And so, for this anniversary, I am sad. And I’m gonna sit in my sad. And remember Chuck. And I’ll give thanks – cause all this grief was so very worth loving him.