I’ve taken all the dying flowers to his graveside now. I’ve yelled at him, asked him why, poured my guilt and love out to him day after day. Sometimes it helps getting it off my chest and other days I feel as wilted as the flowers I just laid on his pile of dirt.

 

All the days are hard and the future looks unbearable. No promise of a better time. Only the absence of him.

 

The idea of one day at a time, one foot in front of the other, daily bread, manna, however you want to look at it is so incredibly real now. I can’t think further than getting through the day.

 

I know the pain will become different over time. I’ve read all of that. But right now hurts and tomorrow will hurt some more.

 

Then I crawl in bed next to Noy and plead with God to come be our comforter and in a split second, a peace that I could never possibly explain flows right down into my chest and I’m able to rest and I know that we will survive this nightmare. That life will be different than what I had planned but God will walk beside us. I’d be lying if I said there was this peace all day, every day or even every night. Honestly, there’s the most heavy, deep pain a parent can ever fathom. But then there’s peace and small glimpses of God’s grace and the work he’s doing in me, in Noy, in our family. We will never understand it all. We can only trust that God is good and rest in the moments of peace He so graciously gives.

 

Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted. I’m so thankful for this promise and can attest to its truth.

 

Xo

Dawn