Only One Placemat
It’s been thirty-eight days. The one I thought I would be eighty-something with before one of us died, found himself in the arms of Jesus at only sixty-nine. First a military burial as taps played, then a church service led by my children and I to honor Jesus and remember our father, PopPop, husband, one we will miss deeply.
The days became a blur. Amazing how much there is to do after a death of a loved one. I thought the evenings would be long, but exhaustion is my nightly companion still. Not physical exhaustion (although it feels that way) – but soul tired. Drained.
Yet there is always Light. For the Light of the world promised never to leave us or forsake us. Sweet moments when a grandson wants to wear Pop Pop’s hats because he still thinks about him – a lot. Moments when a son breaks down in the garage because it reminds him so much of dad. Moments when I walk our favorite path and see it through his amazing blue eyes. Jesus reminds me: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness, but will have the Light of life.” (John 8:12b NIV)
Turns out mornings are the hardest. I haven’t put my finger on exactly why yet. Perhaps not getting his morning kiss. Or not seeing him in his favorite spot with a Bible in his lap. I think it’s when breakfast is made and I sit at the table – having put down only one placemat – and look across to an empty chair. The one who listened to my chatter as he ate toast and took vitamins isn’t there.
I’m not sure what your loss may be right now – or when a loss will come your way. There is no minimizing or comparing the hurt of a loss – just because your loss might be your health or marriage betrayal but not the loss of a child, doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t grieve. Life, as it turns out, will be full of loss. Grief is in our DNA. To grieve is to let your heart tell yourself and others: this hurts and it matters.
I think there will be sunshiny days where I write of the joys of life again – but for now I think it’s important to notice the sorrows. Jesus knows this. And because He walked this hard earth, we can be sure he doesn’t miss one tear on our cheeks. “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” (Isaiah 53:3a BSB)
As I finish writing, somewhere in the world a mother’s child won’t come home. A brother will take his own life. A best friend will suddenly be gone. A sweet husband will go ahead without his wife. And many other equally heartbreaking scenarios. It is why we must remember: this is not our home. It isn’t supposed to be this way.
Someday there will be no more tears, hallelujah! Until then it is to us to seek the Light – our Jesus – and to shine the Light into the darkness. And when there is only one placemat, maybe those moments become holy ones where our chatter becomes a holy dialogue with the One who is coming back for us someday soon.
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parisrenae 
I’m very saddened to hear of your deep loss Paris Renae, my heart goes out to you. I’ve been there, when my late husband passed away from brain cancer. Yes mornings are hard, I found nights harder.
But I’m here to share that there will come a day when they get lighter & brighter my friend. But for now rest in the comfort & arns of our Saviour.
Hugs, Jennifer
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