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January 1, 2011
Happy New Year Erin!
The distance in time between us seems vast as we leave this first decade
of 2000 behind us. But looking forward, the time until we are together again is measurably closer. Such a paradox.
Love you, see you soon.
Mom
November 12, 2010
Hi there Pooh!
I have spent the day with you… updating various parts of
your website… and watching your Memorial Service (4 times.) It was such an amazing service. It almost seemed as though it was rehearsed
but there had been no time for that… so it just happened. Pastor Mike was such a blessing. He shared what an amazing life you lived and
how you served God with your life. Your
teachers, Mr. Deerborn and of course Gina brought you back to life with the
many remembrances they recounted. Though
I cried, once again, as you were removed from the Sanctuary, I sit here now,
somewhat comforted by what has seemed like a long visit with you.
So how are you doing Erin?
Does it seem as though it has been 7 years since you last woke up in
your bed… since you reported for work? or arrived to school? Do you
know the answer to the question, “Why did you have to die so young?” Have you had “that” talk with God to learn his plan?
I don’t blame Him for taking you… I’m not even sure if it
was His “plan.” It may very well be that it was just a matter of consequence
for living in this fallen world. But I
do know that what Satan would have used for evil, God has used for good and
your life continues to bless us all; those who knew you directly and those who have
learned of you through circumstances which only God could orchestrate.
I have a theory, though I don’t know if it is theologically
sound… but nevertheless, it makes sense to me.
I believe the parents I have come in connect with, those that have lost
a child, I think their child comes into contact with you in some manner. I think somehow all our lives have been woven
together –As I think back over the past 7 years, there have been so many
children … it’s still very sad on this side of heaven.
Your sister and her family are coming up for
Thanksgiving. I can’t wait to see the
babies! They are such a blessing and
make my life seem full. What a gift God
has given me in these grandchildren. Being
a grandma has made this time without you bearable.
Happy Birthday Erin!
My gosh! you are 24 years old now!
How can that be??
Loving you still,
Mom
6
Years Down the Road
"Naked I came from
my mother's womb, and naked I will depart.
The
LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
Six years ago we were caught up in
a storm when you were taken from our lives.
The anguish I experienced nearly consumed me. Losing you was my greatest fear; a nightmare realized. The shock left me deadened as
in a coma; life continued all around me but I could not connect with it. I staggered along the path before me, placing
one foot in front of the other; going through the paces of life but no longer
living.
… For sighing comes to me instead of food; my groans pour out
like water. What I feared has come upon
me; what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness; I
have no rest, but only turmoil." (Job 3)
Six years ago I could barely
catch my breath. I was suffocated by my grief
and consumed by my fear that I could not endure this heartbreak. Panic would
overtake me if I tried to imagine my future without you. I yearned for the grave. Life for me had become a countdown: each day passed
brought me one day closer to you.
Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath; my eyes will
never see happiness again. I despise my
life; I would not live forever. Let
me alone; my days have no meaning. (Job 7)
This was new territory for me… Though
not unfamiliar with disappointment, losing you was like receiving a life
sentence; a prison without escape. Gone
were the colors of life I once knew; replaced by these shades of grey. Gone was my hope for the future. All hope was now lost. Gone was my belief that “everything will turn
out all right.” Nothing would be “right”
again because you were gone.
My spirit is broken, my days are cut short, the grave awaits
me. My eyes have grown dim with grief; my whole frame is but a shadow.
My days have passed, my plans are shattered, and so are the desires of my
heart. Where then is my hope? Who
can see any hope for me? (Job 17)
Mourning for you, I found myself drawn
to the grief journey of Job from the Old Testament. I did not feel compelled to
blame God for what had happened nor did I ask the question “why?” But like Job
I had a deep yearning to hear from God in a personal way. I needed to know that He cared.
God walks
with me on this road marked with suffering….
I look back on my journey and I can see that God has never left me to walk
through the barrenness of grief alone. He
has landscaped my path with people and projects that have brought me renewed
hope and healing.
I am remembering
tender hearted people who came along side me and dared to enter into my
pain. The tears they shed for us
comforted me while validating the significance of my loss. Along my grief
journey God has lead me to others who were also grieving the loss of a loved
one. The experience of extending support
to another, just as others have done for me, has brought new purpose to my
life. But still I grieve for you…
Throughout
these years God has given me “Erin” projects to keep me focused outward. These projects have been a therapy that has
brought healing to my heart. My “Grief Journal”
began on the drive home from the hospital the day you died. I spent many lonely days and nights capturing
each detail of that first year. Writing in my journal quieted my fear that I
may somehow forget… My “CD Project” was a result of my Grief Journal. I poured over our family pictures to select the
ones which best fit my memories. Each
word that I choose had to be true to my story. And the music… well, even now
God speaks to my heart through these lyrics.
Each song I included has a message of hope for a day when I will be with
you again.
Your website
has been a huge blessing for how it has kept you alive in my heart and a part
of each day. Every time I work on it I
feel as though I am visiting with you.
The greatest gift however, are the postings made on the message page by friends
and family and by people that found us on your website. These entries help to bridge the gap between
us and make you seem within reach.
Throughout
these six years I have tried to honor you with projects from my heart to serve
as markers for the milestones we have passed.
I have written you poems, made picture colleagues, and hung personalized
Christmas ornaments on our special “Erin” tree.
I have written articles that have appeared in our local papers, and I
have made a tribute video that I posted to YouTube. I have shared my testimony before our Church and
serve as a leader in the High School Youth Group. I have given gifts in your name, sponsored a
World Vision child that was born the day you died, and redecorated your bedroom
to preserve your memory while making a special place for your niece and nephew
to play. God has blessed this season of my life with
greater meaning but still my heart grieves for you.
The LORD blessed the latter part of Job's life more than the
first. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of
oxen and a thousand donkeys. And he also
had seven sons and three daughters. The first daughter he named Jemimah), the
second Keziah and the third Keren-Happuch.
Nowhere in all the land were there found women as beautiful as Job's
daughters, and their father granted them an inheritance along with their brothers.
(Job 42)
Honestly, I have never really understood
the end of the book of Job. It says that
God blessed the later years of Job’s life, giving him more then what he had lost. God even replaced his children, giving Job
seven more sons and 3 more daughters.
The tone of the text suggests to me that everything turned out all right
in the end. But could it be all right
when ten of Job’s children were still dead?
From my perspective, once I lost you nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter that I had wealth or
possessions because there could be no replacing you. And while I love and appreciate my family and
friends, I felt there would always be darkness in my soul that would
over-shadow any good that was in my life.
I could not see the blessings of the seven sons and three daughters that
were given to Job at the end of the book.
I could only feel his continued grief for his first born children. Could the new children somehow make up for
the ones he had lost? In my heart it
wasn’t possible…
But now, six years
later, God has blessed me with grandchildren, my second children: Taylor Erin and Dylan James. As my love for them grows and deepens, they
don’t replace you. But what this deep
love has done is to bring healing and wholeness to my life. I love them so much Erin. But more than that, God has given me special
work to do that really matters. Not like
the busyness that I let consume much of my life. Helping to care for these two babies is “work”
with a purpose; a higher calling. Certainly
there is sacrifice in the time I spend at your sister’s home 90 miles away, but
each accomplishment made, each milestone crossed, each challenge overcome has
slowly filled the emptiness in my heart and has brought new meaning to my
life. I miss you Erin and our story is
still so very sad. Even as I write this
my throat begins to tighten and my eyes fill with tears. But now, six years later, I feel I have been
restored by doing the work God has called me to do and suddenly I “get” the
last verses in the book of Job. There
can be happiness and celebration once again…
Yet still my heart
clings to you and it always will… Is it
okay that we don’t visit your grave each day?
Is it okay that you have gone weeks at a time without flowers? Is it okay that I am spending more of my time
with the living? I hesitate to say yes
to these questions because I feel I am somehow letting you down… or maybe after
these six years I am letting you go? Is that okay?
Right now as I sit here I feel a combination of grief and guilt, but there
is a thought that runs through my mind that maybe this is how it should be 6 years down the road ….
Be looking for your
balloons today Erin… Dad and I will be
releasing them to you, one by one for each year without you...
I love you, mom
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