I miss Greg. A lot.
Does that surprise you after 31 months? Does it seem like I have moved on or that maybe I should?
I've grown accustomed to his absence in many ways. We have new routines that do not require his presence and I have adapted, slowly and falteringly, to this new life I've been given.
And yet... there is an ache. A constant sense that something - someone - crucial is missing. When joy comes my way, I want to share it with him. When I am sad, I wish he was there to give me a comforting hug. When I have decisions to make... and there are so many decisions to be made... he is the one I want to discuss them with.
Tonight we watched fireworks explode over palm trees and I thought about how much he would love them. He would have such awe on his face as he looked up at the colors shooting across the sky. He would hold my hand, maybe pull me close, and I would feel secure by his side. But he wasn't there. And he won't ever be again.
It's just me, left to navigate a life I didn't expect without the one person I hoped to spend my life with. Without him here, sometimes I feel lost. Still. I am still figuring out who I am without him. I am still trying to trust that God can carry me through without Greg by my side. I can look back and see how God has carried me but gosh do I wish I could see into the future - past the big and small decisions- and know, before stepping out in faith, that God will continue to hold me no matter what comes.
I think about the frailty of life as often as I think of Greg. We are one missed heartbeat from death- one disaster from our loved ones being ripped from our hands. It is through this world of loss and pain - and also joy and beauty- that I must go without Greg. But not without God. Oh not without God.
So my prayer lately is that I will believe that God is enough. When it feels like He is all I have I pray that I will not panic and run after anything and everything else that promises security or life. When the frailty makes me cower in fear, and it often does, I need Jesus to lift my gaze to Him. To remind me that I am loved, seen, cared for, and watched over even when standing alone at a fireworks display that my deceased husband would have loved.