It’s been officially three weeks since Tim was laid-off. I keep reminding my brain that we’re not on vacation. A little bit of normalcy finally kicked in this week, and we’re holding a loose schedule. I am happy to report that the bickering between my boys has even improved, praise be to God!
I was surprised by the fresh waves of grief that came rolling in this week. Yesterday, they hit so hard that I put myself to bed early. It’s been two years and eight months without Justin, and I can still hardly believe he’s gone.
We’d been in our house one year to the day that we lost Justin. But, there are still traces of him everywhere. Like the way he’d stand in our doorway at night with his hands on his sides, telling us about a girl he liked or a funny story from work.
I remember him half-asleep, sitting in the overstuffed recliner in his bedroom, reading a big fat theological book before he went to bed. In the mornings, my heart rejoiced when I’d see his Tabletalk magazine and Bible laying open on his bed bookmarked to where he’d left off.
What I’d give to have his music pumping through the house again; I wouldn’t even get annoyed at him for using the walls as drums.
I miss his peculiarities, like the way he washed his pillowcase every other day and how he stole my baby wipes on a nightly basis to wipe down his tennis shoes. I smile when I think about the way he’d tote around a gallon size jug of water-guzzling it here or there throughout the day.
I know this for certain, all of the late-night conversations, stupid jokes, endless quoting of baseball statistics, obnoxious political rants, a new song I just had to hear, they were all worth it.
What I’d give for just one more hug.
Justin’s faith has been made sight, and I am waiting for my one day. Because one day,
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be nor more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Rev 21:4)
Come soon, Lord Jesus.