The days come and go with little recognition of time passing. Working and schoolwork take up the majority of my time. The landscape of my grief is littered with thoughts that punch me in the gut, and sweet memories that I cling to. I have a photos on my nightstand of Mike. In one of them he is a baby---nine months old---and he is peeking over my shoulder with his bright blue eyes and his precious face with a look of curiosity. I also have a recent photo and he has that sweet vulnerable look on his face that melts my heart. It was Mike's habit to call me everyday and say "What are you doing?" I miss those calls so much. I miss his unique personality that brought me such joy and frustration. Yes, I even miss the frustration.
Surprisingly, my faith has not taken a hit. But, I don't understand why my family has to be decimated like this. How does this fit into any plan? I'm struggling God----help!
I read a book by Marybeth Chapman (wife of Steven Curtis Chapman) whose daughter died after her brother accidentally hit her with their car. She wrote with unflinching clarity about her grief. I related to every word she wrote. It felt like someone understood that fierce "mommy" love that can't let go.
It seems so unfair, but I already know that life isn't fair. Life is a journey, that at the moment is painfully arduous.