Two Years

Two weeks ago marked the two year anniversary of my sister's death.

I had assumed that after two long years things would get easier. I had hoped that when I had to drive through the intersection of 4-11 and Church Street I wouldn't vividly recall the flashing lights and incomprehensible sobs. I had imagined that with time I would stop "thinking" I saw her in the grocery store or at the mall.

Others would say that time would heal the hurt...that was not true.

Contrary to popular belief, time doesn't always make the pain go away, in fact, nothing makes it go away. But, I can say there is an aspect of God's goodness and gentleness that I have only felt during the times I've cried out to Him in unbearable pain. Psalm 34:18 reminds us that "the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." The death of my only sister crushed my spirit. Losing the one person I spent 32 years of my life with broke my heart into pieces that to this day aren't put back together exactly the same.

Going to visit the place we buried my sister is not something that I enjoy. In fact, it is something I dread at times. The emptiness of that place is not the way I choose to remember the woman that filled so many other lives (including mine) with unadulterated joy. But each time I go sit alone in front of her marker, I come away with a renewed sense of longing for the day that Christ will return and I see His face, as well as hers again.

My parents worked for countless hours to put together a headstone that was a reflection of my sister. I have hesitated for a long time to put these photos on my blog but was reminded just today that this blog serves as a record for me and ultimately my children and I want them to know every detail.

My sister's children wrote letters to their mom to go on the headstone. This one was from her son, Cross.

This one was from her daughter, India.

If you were fortunate enough to know my sister and her "sparkly" personality you would understand why nothing but lime green stems, red glittery poinsettias and a silver metallic wreath with multicolored ornaments would do for Christmas. These decorations PALE in comparison to the glitz and glamour she modeled daily to those around her.

During the weeks after her death I had a couple of friends who literally held me together when I was falling apart. As my world spiralled out of control they were faithful to clean my home, handle our meals, care for my children, go to the grocery store, wash laundry for the 7 people now living in my home and even bring clothes for me to wear to the funeral. The Lord used those girls to get me through some of the darkest hours.

Two weeks ago, one of those dear friends showed up at my house with this.

Psalm 46 is the passage Britten preached at Mandy's funeral. I wear this to remind myself daily that even when the earth gives way, even when the pain will not subside, even when the "waters roar and foam", God makes me glad and He alone is my fortress!