Unexplainable

I’ve been hesitant to write, mostly out of anger, maybe some regret and even out of the overwhelming sadness that comes with every thought. Not writing sometimes because I just feel like I’m telling the same things over and over. I miss you so much that my body is physically aching, my eyes sting and my head hurts from the constant wandering thoughts that plague me.

I’m angry at myself mostly, I regret every goodbye kiss I took for granted and not fully listening to every thought about work, football or baseball. I’m angry that I accidentally deleted a whole folder of photos from my phone just a couple of weeks before the wreck. I’m angry that when talking to Amaya I still say “we’ll talk about it”, which used to mean you and I would let her know an answer later, now it just means I’m talking to myself. I’m overwhelmed with sadness because I can never see you again, never hear your laugh or touch you. I’m scared that memories of you may fade one day, that details will slip my mind. I’m scared to live a life without you. I know people say you are here with me but it is not the same. It never will be and that is the scariest part of waking up every day.

I’m angry with God, I may have said that before but I’ll say it again.   I know that you shouldn’t question God, I should have faith that I can make it through and that He will be there guiding me along the way. I’m not proud that I question Him about this whole situation, but I do. I remember us having this same conversation about your mom over and over, you truly believed that with the amount of people praying for her healing she would receive a miracle and that would be a testament to how great of a God we serve. It was still somewhat unbelievable, twenty years later, that she didn’t and you lost her. I guess I never fully grasped the emotions you had from that time until now. Well I had the same faith through your hospital stay, I truly believed that you would be healed no matter how long the road, that this testimony would bring people closer to Him and you would get a chance to have your miracle. My heart breaks for you. My heart breaks for our family. It is shattered.

Last night I walked with Amaya along the Christmas parade route so she could be normal again, with her friends, hopefully without her mom being a basket case of tears.  At the very last minute I bought light up necklaces, candy and bags.  I took deep breaths and made little eye contact with onlookers. As we lined up all I could think was last year we were here together, proud cheer parents, smiles, with coffee from Fidalgo Bay but also a plan to get away quickly to watch The Ohio State play.  Knowing I will never have that again, well it sucks quite frankly. We finished the parade, I dropped Amaya off to be with her dad and I went home and watched the Buckeyes go on to win the Big 10 Championship again, but I would give anything to have my biggest Buckeye fan here with me. I miss you.

This morning I woke up and went to church, Mom came too. Kory delivered the sermon today, I stared at the screens mostly not singing for fear the tears in my eyes would start falling. Although the Christmas series started today, he touched on God being the cornerstone of our lives and then said something to the affect of if your family is your cornerstone, instead of God and someone passes you are left devastated. I absolutely believe that  you were a piece of  the cornerstone of our family. I also believe that at the core of who you truly were God was your cornerstone, so naturally we relied on you and followed your lead. Were you perfect? No. Am I? Most definitely not. I’m not sure, no matter how someone prioritizes their faith, that they could say they weren’t devastated if standing in my shoes.  I am devastated, and my faith although shaken, isn’t gone, it is just on a journey of unexplainable query and grief.