A Letter To My Son
To My Dear Christopher,
The other day, a photo of you came up. You were young, fresh-faced, and laughing into the camera lens. In that photo, you were forever young and happy. I wanted to stretch my arms and reach back “through the looking glass” into that time.
But there were tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.
I am missing you after fifteen years. At times, it’s still a stab of pain.
Time moves quickly and slowly. Your children are growing up so fast, and I want to freeze time forever. But days crawl by when all I want to do is see your face again.
Your brother is a man and a great father. He’s mature, Godly, and hard-working. Your life and death shaped him into who he is today.
Your dad presses on at what feels to me like a breakneck pace. He has another idea (imagine that—your dad has more ideas!) and has Sunday sermons on his mind. He works hard, and the weeks speed by in a blur.
This last year was punctuated by some epic highs. Jesus Revolution was unexpected (for me). Dad caught the vision while I had a “let’s wait and see” attitude. And wow, did God do amazing things.
There have also been epic disappointments, and I am thankful for forgiveness, mercy, and second chances.
This year, your dad and I celebrated the beginning of our fiftieth year of marriage and fifty years of this church that shaped and nurtured you.
As for me…I am a mother and a grandmother, thinking of the years ahead and how much longer remains until we are together. The recordings of you are so few; the days without you, too many.
It’s only me in this room. Your dad’s close by, in the other room. His music is playing loudly. He sings.
Every song reminds me you’re gone, and I feel the lump form in my throat again. In those early days, delusion was the default setting I had to fight. I would subconsciously think you were just on a long trip. I was sure that any day you would walk in the front door and say, “Hey, Mom! I’m back. Don’t cry. I’m right here.”
Then it’s only me in this room again. You’re still not here. When life unfolds, it does so without you.
No one is ever ready for this. No one prepared me for this.
Everything changes on this side of Heaven. Nothing is the same for long. That’s the unchangeable fact that hits hard every July when we are reminded of the day you left for Heaven.
Life goes on. The world never stops turning. But I will stop today. Reset. Shift focus. Stabilize. Turn back to the Father, sit in His never-changing love, and press on until I see you again.
I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again. Until that day, you are forever in my heart.
Love, Mom
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