Eat breakfast. Make Lunch. Wash dishes. Fix Dinner. Clean up. Repeat.
We stare at each other in a daze and someone asks what day it is.
Meals and pain medication mark the passage of time on the clock. But we are frozen in the moment. Torn between clinging to life, and aching for their pain to be over. Even though we know it means ours has just begun.
I feel almost dizzy as I look at every picture, every nick-knack, every corner in the house as if seeing it for the first time. Because everywhere I turn, I see her.
And not for the first time the question burns inside me. How do you ever recover from the shock of a life full of reminders… yet suddenly empty of the presence of one so dearly loved?
Here is a level of healing I don’t understand at all. A long and messy healing.
I text words to a friend, “I don’t think I’m ready for this stage of life.”
She writes back, “I don’t think we ever will be.”
And in this suspension of time, I come face to face with a prayer that scares me a little.
“LORD, make me to know my end and what is the extent of my days;
Let me know how transient I am.
Behold, You have made my days as handbreadths…
Surely every man at his best is a mere breath.
And now, Lord, for what do I wait?
My hope is in You.” Psalm 39:4-5, 7
Make me know my end… and make me know my hope. Make me know You. Please Lord. The former without the latter can only lead to despair.
And You are the only hope that’s sufficient for this reality. Save us from false hopes. Make us know You.