Lift him on 3
"1...2...3..."
Just like that, I went from crying on Ryan's chest, to crying on my dad's. I watched in awe as the head of my home growing up, carried the head of our home down the stairs for the last time. The image and gesture of sacrificial love colliding with disorder is forever burned into my mind. I have lost a spouse before my dad, and my sons have lost their father while I still get to marvel at mine. It's both fiercely beautiful and horribly disjointed.
Me and the boys left Ryan's viewing an unfamiliar, blurry-eyed trio with tear soaked shirts, weak knees, and hoarse throats. I won't forget our son prying himself from his dad's chest for the final time and saying, "It will never be enough time, and no 'goodbye' will make it enough."
Those words continue to resonate. There is still shock. Each morning I burst to talk to him, my body remembers before my brain does. A whole life that still remains in our home, whose voice is still on my phone, and whose smiling images hang on our walls is suddenly missing from our family. I still can't reconcile how. The only thing abundantly clear is that it was never supposed to be this way, and I cannot imagine the wrongness of this separation ever sitting dormant in my soul until the day I walk through Heaven's gates.
Living tethered between these two halves, life with Ryan and life after him, couldn't feel any further from home. A sense of familiarity stopped with his last heartbeat. Yet, what we built together continues to beckon us deeper into a fog that hasn't cleared.
Contrary to the warm weather, plants teeming with life, and people all around springing with activity, so much here remains frozen. The days continue to escape me but, somehow, our feet are still moving and, somehow, our hearts continue to limp forward. It's a mystery of survival and God's faithfulness.
"You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me." Psalm 139:5
My confidant and steady life-friend, the gift of your life here cannot be measured, but it was certainly multiplied in the sons you gave me. As your strength waned, you were an ever-present encouragement behind me, inching me toward roles, tasks, and an earthly future you knew you could no longer fill. It was truly God's work that you found more ways to bless us and, by extension, gave us a boundless list of things to miss. While the hole of you is tremendous and the skin of the man I loved so deeply is condensed to a box, you fill up some of the most precious spaces in our hearts and minds.
Our eyes miss seeing you. Our arms miss holding you. Our ears miss hearing you. Our lungs miss laughing with you. But we smile thinking of you this Father's Day as an expert resident of Eternity, whole again, and locked arm-in-arm with our heavenly Father. Our greatest loss was your perfect reunion. Until I see you on the other side, Love.
Praying for your this very minute, friend. ♥️Christie
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