Dominic was always working on his car.
During one weekend session, something went wrong and he came storming through the garage.
He slammed both hands hard on my extra pantry, crashing one mason jar full of tomatoes into the other, making a mess and leaving greasy hand prints on the white melamine doors.
I waited until he made his way into the house and upstairs then went to assess the damage-tomatoes dripping everywhere, glass on the floor and hand prints in several places.
I cleaned the tomatoes and glass and gave a swipe at the doors. But those marks of my son’s temper remained for months. I finally found a mixture that got most of it off so only faint reminders were left.
After Dominic was killed, I went to the garage and put my fingers one by one into what was still there of his hand print.
It made me feel closer to him, like there was a little of his life left that I could touch.
Today I was thinking-what will I do when the last fingerprint fades away?
What will I cling to that can make him real to me again?
I know he has only left this earthly tent and the real Dominic is with Jesus, but I’m still stuck in the physical world, longing for physical connection.
A mama’s arms are made for holding her children, not for holding their memories.
This is the greatest challenge I face in my grief–not blaming God or even dealing with the pain–it’s the need to touch my children and knowing now one is beyond my reach until I join him in heaven.
[King David said] “Could I bring the child back to life? I will some day go to where he is, but he can never come back to me.” 2 Samuel 12:23b GNT