Tuesday, October 16, 2012

How am I doing?

As I drive down the road to town, the kids talking incessantly in the backseat. I don't mean to, but I tune them out. I reach over and turn on the radio. They quiet down to listen. I switch between the country stations and christian music stations. It doesn't matter which one, I always hear something that makes it happen. All these emotions I have neatly packed away stuffed down and stomped into place. A padlock tightly closed. The key hidden. I didn't mean to put them there, but they are there. I can't get them to come out most of the time. But now and then, especially driving, with the music on, the come up. Such a wave that crying doesn't cover it. I scream. Hit the steering wheel. The kids ask what is wrong, then answer the question to each other, because they know. "Mama is just missing Uncle Bill."

I do. Most of the time life is just routine and I don't even think of him. Or when I do it is a funny memory and I laugh. It isn't even the fact that he is gone that gets me. It's that next week he still will be. Next month. Next year. All my life. My kids will only have stories and pictures to remember. I never know whether to tell people "I have six brother's or I HAD six brothers".

Less often now, but it still happens. I play the phone call through my head. It was not quite six in the morning. The moment I looked at the clock as the phone rang I knew something was wrong. I leapt out of bed and grabbed my phone from where it was charging. It was Mom. Her voice a forced calm. Asking if Stephen is home. My mind thinks "Oh no, Dad...." Then she says "Bill died". Wait, what?? He's only 30. I saw him last week! I'm in too much shock to cry. I just tell her okay. Do I need to call anyone. She says no, she'll do it.

My brothers 'left' and I call each other as we get the news. The tears come. This can't be right. God says we can raise the dead... do I have the faith. I call brothers. They are thinking the same thing. We begin fasting. Tell friends who will stand with us. So sure. Pumped. Excited!

Then coming home... Did we hear wrong? Did we give up too soon? Was our faith not strong enough? I still don't know. But I do know that God is in control no matter what.

I miss you so much Bill. I love you brother.


KK said...

It will be 29 years ago this December 15 that two young police officers knocked on my front door late one evening and asked to talk to my dad. They were there to deliver the news that my sister had been murdered earlier that day. I can remember that evening like it was yesterday. And yes the tears still sometimes roll. Time begins to dull the sharpness of the pain, but it is something I don't think ever goes away. Our arms ache for one more hug, our hears yearn to hear one more laugh, but they live on in the memories we hold in our hearts. The memories we share with those who won't get the chance to know them. Just don't bottle it up, don't lock it away. Share it. Share the pain, share the memories, share the love you have for him. (((HUGS)))

~Tammy~ said...

Driving does it to me too.

Rachel said...

It's a hard time to get through. Prayers for you and the family.

The K. Family said...

I'm so sorry. I agree with KK, share the memories often enough that your kids will feel like they knew him! I'll be praying for you and your family.