An update

It has been a while since I have written anything. I have wanted to put some things down over the last couple of months, but I wanted to write something with purpose, not just put words on paper.

As of this writing, it has been 161 days and some 5-1/2 hours since Zack left us. Some would say 5 months, some would say 23 weeks, but this is how I count it. Every day is another day to carry the pain, the ache of missing my son. I was the last to see him alive, and the last to hold him, the last to kiss him. I gave him his last hug, and the last to tell him he was loved. I am grateful that privilege fell to me. And every minute since then, I miss him.

I wrote earlier of the unpredictable nature of this blanket of grief, and it has not changed. The times of being overwhelmed are fewer than before, but they still occur. I carried the trash to the curb earlier and saw a sled that we have had for some time. When I saw it, I remembered him sliding out of our sight in it on a mountain after we bought it in Colorado when he was 7. We thought we had lost him then, but as we ran down the hill through the deep, packed snow, he came trudging back around the tree line pulling the sled behind him and wearing the biggest grin he could form. And I thought of Zack using it to pull his then-girlfriend’s baby around the yard in the snow one winter a few years back. The rope he used is still attached. I had to stop in the dark and cry for a while.

We recently watched “The Greatest Showman”, and enjoyed it very much, but whenever I hear “Never Enough”, I can’t breathe. The lyrics say, “All the shine of a thousand spotlights, All the stars we steal from the nightsky will never be enough, … Towers of gold are still too little, these hands could hold the world, but it’ll never be enough”. In my lifetime, I will never be able to attain or obtain anything that will ever be enough to replace his presence in my life. There will never be enough. The absence is too much to overcome. He was on this earth for 28 years and 133 days, and every moment of that time, I was proud of him.We have seen friends over the last few weeks that we haven’t seen since before Zack died. Most have said nothing and hugged us, some have said kind words, others have been very uncomfortable almost to the point of rudeness. Our friends need to know that we hold you all in our love equally, even if you don’t know what to say or do. You are right: most of you don’t know what to say because you haven’t been where we are, and I am most grateful you have not. If you want to do something for us, do this: hug us when you see us, pray for us when you think of us, and do not ask how we are doing. You don’t want to know, and we will probably lie anyway. We will never be the same again. Our “normal” is different than yours. Please don’t spout platitudes, they come across as insincere and thoughtless. Don’t be afraid of us. We need you now more than ever.

Jude starts the 3rd grade tomorrow. He is a fine student and a fine young man. He is thoughtful, helpful, and funny. Candace, Reneé and I are so proud of him and who he is becoming. He has begun to take great pleasure in scaring his mom and grandmother. He has yet to try it on me, but I think my time is coming.

I will leave you with this: when you pray for us, ask the Father to fulfill His promise of Isaiah 61:3 and Jeremiah 31:13. Look them up. That is your homework.