I miss you. You died five years ago today.
There are times when I look around for you and expect you to be there. There are times when I remember your laugh, your smile and your hyperactive joy. They bring a smile to my face. You created laughter in our family even when we knew you would not always be with us.
There are times when I remember your suffering. I remember your aching joints, your deteriorating mind and capabilities, and your loss of activity. I remember your last years confined to a wheelchair or a bed.
Laughter and suffering–you experienced both, and your led us through both. We laughed with you and because of you. We suffered with you and watched you suffer. And both had their value, though I often wonder what exactly the value of your suffering was, if any.
Joshua, you gave us laughter and we also wept with you as you suffered. Life has not been the same without you. Life changes. Lives go on. But there is a hole in my heart that belongs to you. One day that hole will be filled as we see each other again.
I guess what I miss most is to hear you say “I love you.” Though you died at 16, I have not heard those words since you were 10. I long to hear them again. But though you could not say it, your cooing, your snuggling, your eyes conveyed it. Those are the memories that linger, and they are the hopes that will be fulfilled.
Joshua, I long to hold you again, speak to you and love on you. And I know one day I will.
Until then, my son, I will hold you dear in my memory….but there is a at least one joy that is not memory. My son, I enjoy my weekly time with you at the table of the Lord which we share with all the saints, past and present, every Sunday. There we meet in sweet communion with our common Savior and God.
Joshua, I miss you….but I’ll “see” you again next Sunday, my son. Rest in the peace of God’s arms and may God give my heart a share in that peace with you.