Can you believe you would be 30 today? If you were here, I definitely would be harassing you about being an old man. At least it's good to know that time would be powerless to make you any less funny, or obnoxious, or sweet, or my big brother. It's been 14 months that you've been gone. I miss you...a lot. I spent the last year unable to process and unable to release the burning tears that begged for release. For months after you died, I begged God to give me dreams of you so I could see you and hear your voice. When He finally did, I cursed the morning as it took you from me yet again. Now, I dream of you often. Sometimes I awake filled with joy and carry the sound of your laughter with me through the day--a priceless treasure no one can steal. Other days I awake in a panic...like the night I frantically woke Silas, claiming that you were having a seizure on the couch and we had to save you. Almost daily, I still find myself grabbing my phone to ask you a question or getting excited about fishing season with you before your absence crushes my reality once more. And then...there's July. The entire month has BEN written all over it, top to bottom: You and mom's shared birthday, which was also my due date--This year, I missed you singing "Party Pooper" to me for being born early instead of topping of a birthday threesome. There are fireworks everywhere. Every new firework tent I see ties a new knot in my aching heart. How I wish I could see you with that "July 4th is coming" bounce in your step, flitting around the house to prepare for your firework show. I wish I could design your firework donation buckets and put a touch too much glitter on your advertising posters just to see you roll your eyes. I wish I could sit through the city fireworks this year knowing the real magic would begin after the grand finale, when we would rush to cheer on the show you waited all year to put on. I wish you were here to tease me about my pregnancy chub or the funny way you think I say certain words. I wish you were here to give me a birthday present that is just a bit too obnoxiously pink, but perfectly thought through and heart-felt. I wish you were here to take me fishing and listen to my heartache about our baby boy's lung condition. I wish I could tell you that his name will carry your legacy. It's a strange sensation to hurt so deeply and yet remain so numb. They say time heals all wounds, but that's not true. Actually, I don't think I want it to be true. It the moments when the hurt is deep and hot tears roll that I find the sweetest rest. I find freedom in acknowledging the brokenness of a cursed world. I find peace in the presence of God. I find comfort in the arms of my husband and an unfailing God. I refuse to believe that your death was "right" or worth it or whatever else well-meaning people say...but I do believe that God is for you, for me, and that you are with Him. I believe that He IS bringing good from evil. I believe that though time will not heal, maybe healing isn't the goal....God's glory is. I don't think I will ever heal or process or move on as the world's grief therapy book says I should...but I do know that I am changed for having known you, for loving you, and for losing you. I know that I have gained, that I have lost, and that I have seen God. I love you so much, Ben. Thank you. Thank you for being my big brother and friend. Thank you for being so very memorable and missable and capable of leaving such a very big hole in our lives. Thank you for answering God's call to live for the eternal, that your death might not be the end. May God continue to be glorified!
Love,
Micah
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