Five Years

Five years. It seems a blink of an eye and an eternity at the same time. I have wondered at times if you were a dream: that smiling brown-haired, cow-eyed kid with mischief in his eyes. I can’t hold you now, I can’t talk to you or kiss you. Were you real or did you just live in my mind? But I know you were real. My heart hurts too much for it to have been anything but true. You filled a spot in my life that will never be filled again. I have pictures and videos of you that are proof of your life and how much you loved and were loved. I look at them often and remember the days and circumstances of many of them, and I remember you. You had such humor and kindness, far more than me. You spoke to everyone with the exact same directness and respect regardless of their situation. You listened and encouraged, you helped others dream and instilled in some the courage to do the hard thing needed to get them going.

You told me once how you hated addiction, how it dragged the very life out of you, but very few saw that side. You gave yourself fully to everyone you met, and your presence was so strong that many of your friends still talk about you and tell their kids about “Uncle ZacK” and how much you meant to them and how you impacted their lives. Such a legacy for a such a young man to leave, especially one that fought so much to be himself and happy against the cruelest of enemies.

Your mom, your sister and I loved you so much and were (and are) proud of you. I know you questioned that at times because you knew you and the choices and mistakes you made. But we didn’t care. We prayed for you. We fought for you. We fought friends and family for you. We fought you for you. When you left us, we knew that the battle was over, and we could all rest knowing there would be no more war. We were tired, but we knew you were so much more so than us. We believe you are at peace now. What joy you must have felt at the final release of the weight you carried.

Five years ago, and this afternoon all at the same time. Time doesn’t heal wounds. The wound is still bleeding, the pain is always there.  The Bible doesn’t tell us to not grieve; it says to not grieve as those who have no hope. I truly believe I will see you again, and you will be dancing.