Six Years

Today is the 6th anniversary of my mom's death. Suck.

I don't use the work "suck" very often. But I think the way I feel about today merits the term.

In any case, six years is an interesting milestone for me. You'd think five was more significant. But here's why six is bigger in my mind.

I remember the sixth day after Mom died. Remember it clearly; it's one of those memories that, for whatever reason- your state of mind or maybe the barometric pressure that day- gets locked into your brain.

Exhausted. That was me. Physically, emotionally, spiritually spent. If you've ever gone through the death of someone really close, you understand. Picking out flowers for the casket. Hugging twenty thousand people. Crying until I was concerned that my sodium level was going to get critically low. Saying, "Thank-you" and "I'm hanging' in there" until my lips were about to fall off. Worrying about how my sister, brother, and dad were REALLY doing. Wishing people would stop saying the word "condolences".

Seriously? Does anyone even know what a condolence IS? Not me. For some reason, this word really got under my skin in the midst of my foggy-brained, shredded-heart torpor.

But I digress. I was ex. haust. ed. I remember thinking to myself, "It's only been six days. I've only survived six days without her. NOT EVEN A WEEK!! I can't do this. I mean, I can; I will have to. But I don't want to. What will it be like in six weeks? If I make it that long, will it hurt less? Will I be able to breathe right again? Maybe in six months? Well, at least in six years it'll be better. SURELY it'll be better by then. Six years is...forever. Forever without Mom."

I look back at that internal monologue and smile. I was really right. And really wrong. It's better. Still hard to breathe some days, but better. But six years...even six years without Mom...isn't forever.

Know what IS forever? Eternity. I can't even speak when I think how thankful I am for Christ's work on the cross; the act of love that means I won't be forever without Mom.

And so. Mom died at Christmas time. Yes, it makes for a hard season. But what better time to remember to be thankful for that baby? To be thankful for all He gave up to come. And for all He sacrificed so that we could come.