Another Day

I wake and you are still gone.

The cats tap-tap-tapping on my arms and face declare the day has begun despite the dark and I need to climb out of bed.

Why?

What difference does it make?

I trudge downstairs, put the coffee on, feed the cats and settle into my chair to read and write.

Habits.

Routine carries me through the day.  There are things that need to be done.

The sun still rises-must be soon now because I hear the rooster’s escalating declaration that he, at least, can see the light.

One cat settles into my lap adding weight and warmth to the morning. I remember when I held you and your brothers and sister.  I never tired of that sweet bundle bearing down on my heart.

I would do anything to feel it again.

But that can’t be.  And I won’t hold your children either.

All of you was taken away.

Every last molecule, every last gene.

Nothing left but flat photos and memories that are increasingly difficult to piece together in rich detail.

The vital essence that sent shock waves through a room, the loud laugh, the snarky comments, the deep, deep voice that made you sound so serious-all gone.

Heaven is a real  place and I know you are there.

But I want you here.

I can’t help it.

All the theological arguments don’t fill the hole in my heart where you are supposed to be.

Shake it off.

Here’s the sun.

Get to it.

Another day.

 

 

Author: Melanie

I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.

4 thoughts on “Another Day”

  1. My body rolls out of bed and heads to the coffee pot, seemingly, on it’s own every AM. Some days dragging and some days (today) quickly because I need to beat school traffic. I make coffee, change out laundry, feed cats & dog, & go thru the same old routine of getting dressed for work I’ve had for years. Somewhere between my bed and the coffee pot every day, it registers again…my son is gone, he’s never coming home, how can this be, why am I still here, how can I do this for the rest of my life, this is all wrong, not fair, why…and then I push it all down head to the bathroom and get dressed, rush off to work because it’s what I have to do. How things can stay the same and yet be so different, so seemingly purposeless is very frustrating. Ecclesiastes 1:1-11

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sigh….how I feel every day…get to it, another day has come. Today would be the first day of my son’s senior year-and the 16 month mark of his passing. I’m sad. But…I have another son and I need to get him up, make him breakfast, get him to school. He’s a sophomore this year. I have things to do….

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Not every day is bleak. But it truly IS the need to do for others that I am able to get out of bed each day. I guess I still define myself primarily as a wife and mother regardless of the fact that my children are grown and one is gone on to heaven.. Praying for you sweet mama.

      Liked by 1 person

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