What I wouldn’t do to sit on a comfy leather couch, my coffee cup of the day’s hot brew in hand, my toes tucked under the Archie’s leg, him grinning, just to have a conversation with Archie. He would go on and on about what a wonderful place he is in, what God is really like, the real heaven, not the one I have pictured in my head.
He would tell me what it was like when he first entered heaven, the first time he met Jesus, the place he now dwells, a house or mansion by himself or a community–cause he doesn’t really NEED to sleep, right? Does he eat, drink…bbq? Has he met his bio-dad? Has he seen my mom? Is he watching Taylor and I? Did he see her graduate? Does he still feel happiness and/or pride?
I imagine I would ask these questions one at a time and he would take hours filling in my gaps. He loved to express himself and tell stories, using different voices and BIG actions. He was expressive and animated. Oh, how I miss that.
But no, only silence and the memories.
One of the hardest parts of this grief thing is the silence. It’s not only Archie’s voice, but often..God’s. I heard that over and over from others in grief share. God is there, I know that. He is not the one who moved, I know that, too. Sometimes I seek him, looking up Bible verses on the computer, because I like that better, and my expectation is: if I seek Him I will find Him, not that He’s lost. I just feel like I am. So tonight I googled,”verses about when God is silent.” I may not have found my answer but definitely my prayer:
Psalm 83:1 “O God, do not remain quiet; Do not be silent and, O God, do not be still.”
I don’t have all the answers, sometimes I feel like I don’t have any. I know who does, but when I go to Him and ask, it feels like He turns away, not towards me. It was awesome to know that David, the man after God’s own heart, felt the same way. What do we do with these feelings? I sat and wallowed for a while. I then opened the computer, googled some Christian media, opened up this page, curled up in my chair, forehead on my knee, closed my eyes and began writing. No, God doesn’t need you to watch your fingers. He just wants to see and hear your heart. So this is the way I am writing tonight. I’ve got nothing. I am at the end of me…again. ‘Tis the season.
Our first Father’s day is coming up. Taylor talked about it a lot over the weekend. She had all of his gifts, his card made, and plans in her head. Obviously, things changed. She asked that he be buried in what she had gotten for him for Father’s day, so he received it a little early. As for the music, they had the same taste. She had purchased him albums they had both wanted, but neither owned. I think she will smile when she listens to them.
She is dreading this weekend.
This is when it really doesn’t matter how we feel, but we know we have to do “the next right thing,” even when we are crumbling on the inside. More holidays to get through. We can do this. Even when God is silent, we know He is there, waiting in the shadows. We know. We trust.
…and that is the end of another day. Until tomorrow dear friends.