Miss

I miss things.

I used to miss the bus when I was little.
I miss appointments.
I sometimes miss church.
I miss a meal. (rare)
I miss seeing things at the mall.
I miss Donnie and Marie.
I miss seeing a friend when she comes into town.
I miss the oak tree near my dad's garage.
I miss my Mazda with it's 6 disc CD changer.
I miss the moon when it's cloudy.
I miss my jewelry and home movies which were stolen in 1989.
I miss my Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir CD.
I miss owning sheep.
I miss answering the phone in time to know who has called.
I miss Razorback football when it's out of season.
I miss looking young.
I miss good dreams.


I miss Jae.

I don't even like to say the word "miss" and her name at the same time.
It seems to trivialize a horribly deep chasm of loss.

But tell me another word which says the same thing and easily fits into most conversations?
Yearn?
Pine?
Long?


I miss my future grandchildren that I will never know.
I miss her laugh at my dinner table.
and in my car.
and in my living room.
and everywhere else I go.
I miss her living influence on her sisters and cousins.
I miss her singing.
I miss her career. (How is that even possible?)
I miss her enjoyment of things around me.
I miss waking her up in the mornings and singing her to sleep at night.
I miss her when I see her friends living well and I miss her when I see her friends wasting opportunities.
I miss things that I don't even know about.


Blessedly and thanks be I don't always miss her as I've done this week,...but tonight,

I.
Miss.
Yearn for.
Pine for.
Long to see.

Jae Lynn.

Dang It.

How bizarre it feels to walk out into the yard

and realize that you've lost your car.

What frustrates me the most is the 8 foot wide hole I now have in my rock wall.

Life

"Isn't that a sad conference?"

People ask me how in the world I can enjoy attending an event filled with moms and dads who have experienced the death of one or more children.
I completely understand. I think I would feel the same way.
We, at our National Bereaved Parents Gathering, probably look like a train wreck...the kind of crowd where bystanders just can't look away.

We greet each other in the elevators with smiles, hugs and questions: Who are you here for? Then we show off a button picture or an engraved necklace and call the name of our kids who have gone too soon.
It's an odd heartfelt reunion with friends.
Pity the poor businessman who gets on the elevator with us.

I find that I am often consulted by friends who wish information regarding death and grief.
What I feel like I should be a resource for is information regarding life.
That'd be nice, but I know that's not how it works.

I know how precious it is.
I know how much the "picture moments" mean.
When I say "slow down and enjoy_____" it's been said with conviciton.
When I say "chooses your battles" I try to live it out (especially with Abby...)
When I read "Life is a vapor...", my head nods in agreement.


I desperately want my life to outlive me.
It has to be my life.
I don't think I'll make much of an difference by simply dying........everyone does that.