Ten Years - Just As We Are

*If you've never read Isaiah's Story and would like to, you can start HERE.

A few weeks after losing Isaiah, a family member of a friend who had gone through a similar loss graciously came over to support and talk with me.  Her daughter had been born still fourteen years before.  At that time I literally could not fathom surviving fourteen years without my child, but here we are…TEN years since we met and said goodbye to Isaiah.  Early on, time is measured from the moment of loss, and every day you continue living is one day further away from being with the one you loved.  At that time, considering being fourteen (or even ten) years away from my baby physically took my breath away, but life happens one day at a time, and time marches on.   

To describe 'Just as we are' ten years later... 

Grief changes with time.  Praise God that many aspects of the loss experience dull and heal with time, but grief never fully goes away.  Grief is something that adapts, expands, contracts, and changes in intensity in different waves over time. The waves of grief are far less frequent and variable these days, but the depth is similar.

Our family is full of growth, love, learning, crazy, new experiences, and new challenges.  We are SO thankful!  God has been faithful and generous with care for us through every step.  Praise God that our lives continue to be built on Christ, our faith continues to grow, and we have so much to be thankful for (Col. 2:7)!  And yet…Isaiah is still missing.  We have peace and hope and expectantly live life with all of the joy God graciously gives us, but Isaiah will always be missing.  For me, there is an Isaiah shaped hole in my heart and in our family that will never heal this side of heaven, but I’ve come not to mind it because that is HIS space.  I have full assurance that the Lord will see us through this life through his grace, but have realized certain aspects of this life won’t be fully redeemed until we see Christ face to face.

                                      

Happy 10, sweet boy!  It’s hard to imagine that you would be 10 (double digits!) and that we’ve been apart for so long, yet we are grateful to know you are in the most glorious place.  We've been busy today celebrating your life and spreading kindness in your absence. 

 

PS - This is one of the best descriptions I've found that describes grief over child loss as the years go by....
                   

“The best way I can describe grieving over a child as the years go by is to say it’s similar to carrying a stone in your pocket.

When you walk, the stone brushes against your skin. You feel it. You always feel it. But depending on the way you stand or the way your body moves, the smooth edges might barely graze your body.

Sometimes you lean the wrong way or you turn too quickly and a sharp edge pokes you. Your eyes water and you rub your wound but you have to keep going because not everyone knows about your stone or if they do, they don’t realize it can still bring this much pain.

There are days you are simply happy now, smiling comes easy and you laugh without thinking. You slap your leg during that laughter and you feel your stone and aren’t sure whether you should be laughing still. The stone still hurts.

Once in a while you can’t take your hand off that stone. You run it over your fingers and roll it in your palm and are so preoccupied by its weight, you forget things like your car keys and home address. You try to leave it alone but you just can’t. You want to take a nap but it’s been so many years since you’ve called in “sad” you’re not sure anyone would understand anymore or if they ever did.

But most days you can take your hand in and out of your pocket, feel your stone and even smile at its unwavering presence. You’ve accepted this stone as your own, crossing your hands over it, saying “mine” as children do.

You rest more peacefully than you once did, you’ve learned to move forward the best you can. Some days you want to show the world what a beautiful memory you’re holding. But most days you twirl it through your fingers, smile and look to the sky. You squeeze your hands together and hope you are living in a way that honors the missing piece you carry, until your arms are full again.”

Written by Four Plus an Angel by Jessica Watson