I Still Turn to You

Why do we care?
Life isn't fair.
We all know this is true;
but, we find life cruel
when the young are felled
and children are left not fully knowing what to do.
There's a hole in their soul,
the size of the Grand Canyon,
it can never be filled again.
They know what it was like to have a mom:
Their cheerleader,
nurse,
teacher,
cross-fit ninja,
Belieber,
Taco Bell lovin',

friend;

But, now,
they've begun to forget
how their mother's hugs felt.
They know how the hugs made them feel:



Safe,
secure,
happy,
loved;
but, can no longer feel her 
arms, chest, heartbeat, hands.

She's no longer here.

Now,
there's a veil that separates 
them
from her.

We rejoice in her freedom;
but, for the rest of us,
bound yet on earth,
we still cry.
Grief, on earth, comes like waves
as rivers fall from our eyes;
and,
other times,
there are lulls
where we appear fine.

One soul cannot take the place of another;
especially,
not that of a mother.

And, what of the partner?
The lover,
the friend,
the husband,
who has no one to lay beside him?
Who married his wife,


a gift of new life;

a gift for her as she departed,


a gift for him
to carry on with kin.
To care for his daughter
and adopt a son.
To raise them both
and carry on without her;
but, he cannot be both father and mother.

Enter the aunt,
who teaches them how to do things only mothers do.
Who gives them the hugs
as their mother would.
Who relates to them differently
yet is able to meet them on their level.

The grandparents,
who have gifted experiences
only they can.
Who hand out the hugs,
advice, and Christ;
who wrap them up in faith,
and don't think twice
about stepping in to care for them.

Man was not meant 
to stand alone.
A father,
and son-in-love,
who could not save the bride;
purposed to protect and provide,
throw themselves into doing what they can 
to see that lives go on
within the stormy seas.

A new normal appears on the horizon.
They grab it with both hands.
Steering the ship together,
taking turns at the helm,
keeping everyone afloat
and out of harms way.
They slap each other on the back,
a job well done;
"I'm proud of you Son."

Lesser men would have run away;
but, not these men.


These are men of honor,


men of their word,
the salt of the earth
who bare much fruit;
who couldn't save one
but will save the rest.
Who honor the fallen
by living up to their promises:
For richer for poorer,
in sickness and health.

Death parted the mate from the other;
but, the vows live on
applied to the son and the daughter.

If Amy were here she'd sing this song



to encourage those who continue to mourn:

"When you're lost and you're tired,
when you're broken in two,
let my love take you higher,
I still turn to you".

No soul can replace another;
especially, not that of a mother.

But,
children are resilient;
and, adults can be too
if we learn to embrace the silence.

Be still.

Know.

"Somewhere in your silent night
when your pain runs deep 
the love of Jesus runs deeper still."



"Hope is here,
Lift your head,
Love has come."

The love of Amy ,
too,
always near.

As 2019 arrives at our doors:
I pray it will be a year 
knowing the love of the bride is present still.
We can rise up,
to live out the rest of our days,
the hollow places filled.
Not because we no longer miss the love of our wife,
daughter,
sister,
friend,
mother;
but, because we know she'd want nothing more
than for us to go on with a smile
and laughter upon our lips.

It's okay to miss her,
to cry;
but, it's not okay to die
while our hearts are still beating.

And we rise up
resolute,
with heads held high,
because that's how we honor Amy SoHee.
We take control of our lives
and don't let our lives run us into the ground;
we'll run upon it
until it's our turn to run into open arms.



We run the race before us,
heads held high,
until our last breaths.
Jesus and Amy cheering us onward
waiting for us at the finish line.
When it's our turn to reach them
we'll receive our prize.
Not breathless
but
filled with eternal life:

Peace,
Exhilaration,
Rest,

Joy.

Where nothing is loss,
only gain,
our lives restored;
complete
again.

Better than it was before,
better than its ever been;
beyond our imagination,
love and light beyond comparison.

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