We had a thunderstorm Sunday night. After we put the boys to bed my husband and I were sitting on the couch decompressing from our busy day. The boys and I had gone to Starbucks for breakfast and play that morning (we meet another family there on Sundays) and then the afternoon was spent at an end of the year pool party for my older son’s class. The Moms out there will understand that I am heartbroken that kindergarten is over and 1st grade is nearly upon us.
Both kids were exhausted which of course led to whining and tantrums and misbehavior, but we were finally able to get them to bed and grab some quiet time. It was really cozy to be sitting in our living room listening to the rain. It hit me then just how much Eric is missing. I have already thought about (and blogged about) the big things he missed such as marriage and kids. But he will never again enjoy the simple majesty of a thunder storm.
It somehow seemed right to be mourning in the winter. Even in North Carolina the leaves were off the trees, the sky was gray and bleak; the weather was cold and dreary. It matched my mood. As I watched the trees bud and the leaves grow and spread, I realized Eric wouldn’t be watching it this year. I love that fleeting time when everything is growing and changing and nothing is the same day to day. If you don’t pay close attention, it’s easy to miss. On days I don’t work I like to sit out on my back porch with my morning coffee and watch the world. This year it’s been a chronicle of things Eric will never see again.
Life is made up of moments big and small. We tend to move from big to big and forget about the small. A wedding, the birth of a child, a graduation. I hurt for Eric that he won’t experience any more of the big moments. I also hurt because he’ll miss the small ones. Watching the world awake from winter, that first sip of coffee in the morning, listening to a thunderstorm with a loved one while you are inside cozy and warm.
This blog will bless others for it is your testimony. May God continue to strengthen you and your family daily.
ReplyDeleteliz, loving the picture you posted! that is exactly how i remember eric. big 80's glasses :) enjoying reading your blog very much...
ReplyDeletexoxo
I am so grateful, Liz, that I have found your blog, by way of Sarah's post and interview with you. I lost my dad in a car accident when I was seven and my brother, four. We became, with my mom, a tight little family unit. Yet, I spent the next 3 decades 'waiting for the other shoe to drop'. Namely, that something would happen to my mother and leave me orphaned. My brother and I continued to grow very close. When my dad passed away in February, he moved back from the West Coast after being away for 25 years and cares for her. A brain aneurysm 11 years ago, at age 60, took away her independence and thankfully, his live-in care allows her to stay in her own home. I love and admire him more than ever.
ReplyDeleteI encourage you to continue to refer to your brother in the present tense. While he is not physically visible, he is with you in every moment, now more than ever.