I would guess that most everyone knows that song from Annie. I have been reflecting on it the last few days.
This past weekend my Facebook memory popped up from 5 years ago.
It was February 18, 2013, and we were gathered to celebrate Christmas. We were celebrating late because my oldest brother was buried on New Years Eve weekend after dying in a car accident a few days before Christmas. None of us were in the space to celebrate Christmas. I remember wondering if we would gather at all that Christmas. It didn’t seem possible or even right. And yet 6 weeks later, we gathered, and it was a painfully sweet time. There were many tears and also laughter. There was a thick ache present as a result of all we had been through, and there were glimpses, ever so small, that Len would live on in each of us in a variety of ways.
And now this picture pops up, and it has been 5 years since we said our goodbye to Len and then awkwardly gathered to celebrate Christmas. I don’t know if I will ever lose the memory of how foreign that first family gathering felt. I think we all wondered how to navigate this new reality, a reality none of us ever saw coming.
Today, I can confidently say, the ache is present but not as deep, the tears flow, but not as often, the memories are shared and often bring a smile or laughter. Recently Len’s 14-year-old son sent me this with this caption: really am missing him!
Jean-Marc who was 9 at the time of the accident, now longs for his Dad in his 14 year old life. And yet to hear his voice and to see him in a video reminds us of our loss but even more of the unique goodness that filled a room when he was present. We will always miss his goodness!
If you are in a season of grief or loss, I want to assure you that the sun will come out again. Maybe not tomorrow, but some tomorrow I trust you will feel the promise and hope of a new day. A day which offers you more hope than pain, more comfort than sorrow and the assurance that the sun will shine again!