Grief is so complicated, so messy, so intricately intertwined in daily life that it it sometimes sneaks up on you and catches you off guard.
Like today - driving to work on a plain ole normal Thursday morning. A brief thought of Valentine’s Day was all it took to make me think of you. I glanced down at your handwriting on my wrist and smiled - and quickly melted into a puddle of tears that were hard to overcome.
I thought after 11 years, it would get easier, less emotional, but I think it’s the opposite - now I just desperately grasp at any reminder or memory of the time we did get. Every year seems to carry more weight and more complicated emotions than the one before.
I can picture it all - the exact place I was in when I got the phone call, the drive up to Osborn that evening to see you, and the sleepless night that followed.
I’ve really never *not* thought of you. I still wear your red t-shirt to bed more nights than not. It’s been 11 years but sometimes I swear I can still feel you here. A lot of things remind me of you - like drinking coffee, seeing ride-on lawn mowers, and anything Swedish. I have your signature embedded in my skin and your memory implanted in my brain - but my soul still longs for more.
You loved Jesus and you loved His people so intentionally and SO well. I have an entire box of cards from you - from Halloween to Easter and everything in between, you never passed up on an opportunity to send well wishes & love (and probably a 5 dollar bill!), even when we couldn’t be together.
So it was fitting, then, that after you died on February 13, we found a signed and sealed Valentine’s Day card all ready to go on your kitchen counter - one last reminder of how thoughtful you were and how much you loved - well, love.
It is impossible to fathom that someday I will realize I’ve lived as many years without you as the 16 we spent together. It’s hard not to be bitter that I lost you so young. I thought I was grown up at the time but gosh, how much of life I’ve lived wishing I could pick up the phone and call you or sit on your lap and hear you say “what’s up little squirt?!” one more time.
I wonder what you’d think of this adult life I’ve made for myself. Your friends all told me you were so excited to watch me graduate high school & spent a lot of time talking about staying in Arizona to be there for the occasion. I know you were proud of me then, I can’t imagine what you’d say now, if I could tell you everything. Like the fact that I now work in an emergency room just down the street from the one where you spent your last day. It warms my heart to wonder if some of my now coworkers were there that day with you in the trauma bay - I like to think that they were.
I want to hate Valentine’s Day for opening my scars every year, but I’m trying to be thankful for any reason to feel closer to you. Happy Valentine’s Day, Morfar.
Xoxo,
Love you ❤️