With the birth of our child, we are irrevocably, joyfully, wonderfully, forever changed. With the death of any child, we are unalterably diminished.
And we cry. Throats so tight with grief that words will not come. The constriction moves to our heart and settles in a cold lump. Oceans of tears do not assuage the pain.
How do we get through another day without the benefit of that smile, the quick hug, the bubbling contagious laughter?
How do we reconcile the unfailing trust of one so young, that in its greatness would fill volumes, yet that now will remain unpenned? I look at those around me, and I see their grief. Theirs not mine, mine not theirs, but we mourn the same.
We mourn a life cut short, future deeds unachieved, a history unwritten, a message unshared. And yet, because of those around me, I am face with the reality that while his life may have been cut short, it was far, oh so very, very far from uneventful.
And while I no longer have the joy of knowing him on this earth, it is with a sure and certain hope that I look to see him again - on the other side of Morning. I will not see chemo-sunken cheeks, but a rainbow-wreathed brow; Not a tumor swollen tummy, but arms outstretched, pain-free wide; Not a tear, not a sigh, just immeasurable, eternal love, and unending praise for the Creator.
Never doubt in the dark what you have learned in the light. Do not trade what you know for what you do not know.
When you come to the end of yourself, you find the beginning of God.
