I can remember March 4, 2018 - the day my Uncle Lee passed away suddenly - with shocking clarity. I can’t remember what I did two days ago but I can remember that day two years ago with such detail it would stun you. I remember the weather: unseasonably warm, bright sunshine, but I still wore a coat because of the wind. I remember spending an hour in prayer that morning and feeling God’s presence in a way I hadn’t in months. I remember walking to the park to play tennis with some borrowed racquets, my phone buzzing in the coat of my pocket, my mom’s voice asking where I was and telling me to come to the hospital. I remember it taking too long to get back to my car. I remember thinking my husband was driving too slow on the interstate. I remember John Mark McMillan was playing so low I couldn’t determine the song but it must be him because his CD was stuck in the player. I remember trying to pray but only managing short words like “please” and “no.” I remember meeting my cousin in the Walmart parking lot and driving her with us to the hospital. I remember the parking spot, the color of the tiles on the floor, the exact words: "massive heart attack," "everything we could," "do you want to see him?"
Our pastor told us grief never ends, the waves just get smaller and farther apart. Most days I don’t have any idea what will trigger a wave, but today is different. I know March 4 on the calendar, and I know to brace myself, to give myself grace when grief comes out sideways and I’m irritated over nothing, to eat Oreos when I want to eat Oreos, to keep busy.
Last year on March 4 the day felt mysteriously peaceful and I thought it was some fluke. Today feels mysteriously peaceful as well - maybe because I'm bracing myself, maybe because of the Oreos. I think it's more than that though. I feel held up.
My dear friend Maggie has texted me on every "big" day to tell me she's praying for me. I FaceTimed Emily this morning and we talked about doing things that remind us of him: sitting in Starbucks on the internet, checking the internet speed, and eating m&ms. My Mom texted me and we have lunch planned together later. My mother-in-law texted me to say she's praying. There's nothing I could have done to deserve such kindness, but these things are keeping me afloat today. The waves are coming, as I knew they would, but they're smaller and farther apart, and I'm being buoyed above them by the prayers and love of family and friends.
