June 10, 2016 marks three months since my precious Kevin took his last breath here on earth. (Though I'll be honest, it's possible it was sooner. I found him about 4:30 a.m. and I am confident he was already gone when I found him.) Three months.
It seems so long ago and and yet just like yesterday at the same time. I honestly didn't think I would last a day without him as I stood by his side in that hospital room and held his hand for the last time. It felt like I'd never be able to take another breath, let alone another step. There are still times I just sit in bed and cry. Cry because I miss him. Cry because life seems somehow less without him. Cry because life is harder without him. Cry because of the loss my children have suffered. Cry because of all my children will have to do without a daddy. Cry because I am angry. Cry because I am sad. Cry because I don't know what else to do. Cry because other people get to grow old with the love of their lives and it's just not fair that I don't. Cry because I feel awkward around other couples because I have no other half. Cry because there will be no daddy there to give my little girl away on her wedding day. Cry because there's no one here to daily teach Ethan how to be a man and father who loves and honors God. Cry because I want to dig deeply into the Word and I just can't focus long enough to do that. Cry because I miss the deep prayer life I had before he passed away. Cry because I fear my kids will never be saved. Cry because figuring out this single parent thing is just hard. Cry because I don't feel well but he's not here to comfort me or take care of the kids. Cry because the kids have had more screen time in the last three months than in the entire last year. Cry because I feel like I am so desperately failing my kids. Cry because the closet is empty. Cry because we don't need an office anymore. Cry because there are too many cables and cords in this house. Cry because I am still afraid of Heaven. Cry because my marriage to Kevin is over. Cry because, sometimes, crying just feels good.
When I look at pictures of Kevin, especially before addiction grabbed hold of him, everything feels so surreal. It feels like he's just gone on a business trip and he'll be back in a day or two. I miss the smile he had in those pictures. The JOY in his eyes in those pictures. It's been so long since I've seen that smile or that JOY in him. Addiction stole all of that. And that makes me so angry.
BUT GOD has promised that He will never leave or forsake me. BUT GOD has promised that He is Jehovah Jireh, the God who sees and provides. BUT GOD has promised that in Him, I can do all things. BUT GOD has promised that He loves my children more than my mind can fathom. He desires relationship with them even more than I desire that for them. BUT GOD promises that He is always faithful and true. I can trust Him in all things. BUT GOD has promised that no grave can hold what His grace has justified (lyrics from Lauren Daigle's The Power to Redeem.) This means that Kevin is healed, whole, JOYful, and sitting at the feet of His Savior offering the sweetest worship he's ever offered. No pain, No sadness. No fear. No guilt. No addiction. It means that Kevin's life didn't really start until he took his last breath here and opened his eyes in Heaven. BUT GOD will carry us through every hard day, every hard moment, and will catch every tear. He sees each hurt, angry moment, lonely moment, sad moment, and meets me where I am. Testimonies take time. Prayer works. God saves with His mighty right hand. He is hosanna. There is always a reason for eucharisteo.
Father, draw me to You every time I feel overwhelmed with fear, sadness, or doubt. Draw me to Your word every time I fear for the salvation of my children. Lord, fill me mind with the scriptures I've committed to memory just when I need them. Adopt my children. Give them a new heart and make them new creations. Fill them with Your Holy Spirit and enable them to pour their lives out loving You and loving others.