Grief Journey

Here is comes again the month that my husband died - the anniversary of his death. 

I was going through some cd's the other week and found the pictures of Ambree's birth, her bath, and her grandpa holding her. I heard his voice again. I ached. The what-would-it-be-like if he were here started running through my thoughts I would have someone to help bear the burden, someone to hold me when I hurt, someone to talk to about how I am feeling now, how the Lord showed me I am still a clay pot on the potter's wheel, someone to go places with. The ache grows.

He has become someone in my mind that he never was in person. I am missing what I think he would be but was not very often in real life. And as his diseased progressed he would have been even more reclusive and tired than he was when he died. Wow.

So then I begin to remember the real things the camping trip at Lake Sch-Nepp-A-Ho where we swam, fished, paddled a raft, cooked, and had fun. I came home with heat exhaustion. The trip to Nashville, picnics and a house game of tag. The boys working with Mike at the radio station and transmitter sites. Church camp in Bridgeman Michigan. The prayer team. Those are the real things we did. The emotional support, the heart breaking times, bearing burdens was out of his realm. 

I remember.