Two Years Ago

"I had no idea
the pain would be this strong.
I had no idea
the fight would last this long..."

I can't believe how much energy it takes to not think about some things. Like me, the last few days, trying so hard not to think about two years ago. Two years ago, when I drove through the night with my cousin to visit Grampa in the hospital because there was a probability he would die Valentine's weekend. Two years ago, when I was pleasantly surprised to get to see Grampa again on spring break. Two years ago, when Grampa couldn't talk or eat anymore. Two years ago today, when we celebrated Grampa's 80th birthday early so that we could still celebrate it while he was with us. Two years ago tomorrow, when I was there in the room while he drew his last gasps of breath. Two years ago, when I slept in Grampa and Gramma's living room and woke up the morning after Grampa's death, expecting him to come walking into the room with his cane and his pipe and his cute grandpa hat.


I can't believe how much energy it takes not to think about these things. I can't think about these things because if I do, I'll cry. I can't cry right now. I am still running.

The song that was my mantra during the death of my first grandparent (Grampa), was Jon Foreman's "Learning How to Die." The death of my mom's dad was one of the first deaths I had to experience of someone really close to me when I was old enough to know what was going on. It was hard. And now it takes so much energy to not think about it.

See, I still miss him. I see his overalls in my closet, and I think that he should still be wearing them. I smell a pipe and think of him. Usually all the reminders are good memories of him, but sometimes it just hurts.

Yes, I have no doubt that my grandfather is with the Lord. He no longer experiences sickness - physically or mentally - or crying or pain. He has been transformed. There is hope beyond the grave. I know this. I believe this. Jesus Christ died and rose again, conquering the grave. But it's not the way things were supposed to be. It still hurts, and I still miss him. "So hold me, Jesus, cause I'm shaking like a leaf..."