We are happy.
…but are we really?
I guess this is a question for me. Am I really okay?
Most days it would seem like it. When I’m around others there is finally no room left in my head for negative thoughts. I don’t think about her, and I purposely block out and ignore any feelings or emotions.
Because I won’t cry in front of you. I just won’t.
…but some days when I’m alone and it’s quiet in the house I find myself falling apart. The permanent ache in my chest rises to the surface again and I can barely breathe. It’s like a riddle that’s impossible to solve: there are four of us, but yet there are only three.
Today negative thoughts are clouding my mind and as desperately as I want to push them away, I can’t. They’re stuck there and everything around me reminds me of her.
A little over three months ago, an almost-stranger spent hours and hours taking pictures of what little time we had with Amelia at the hospital. Her camera shutter clicked loudly in that quiet room, but I didn’t mind. With each photo she captured, more gratitude filled my aching heart.
I’d see this acquaintance at church on Sundays. But she wasn’t a stranger anymore; we were intricately connected and forever bound by the events that took place in that lonely hospital room. My heart would burst into a million tiny pieces all over the floor when I’d catch her eye and I’d be left alone, scrambling to put it back together again before anyone saw. For I am strong, and I will not let you see me cry.
As time has passed it’s easier to see this beloved stranger-turned-friend. Last week she took our family pictures, right in our humble abode. And my heart ached all over again. We are missing someone, aren’t we? We are missing her, I wanted to scream out. Let’s go find her, because she should be in these photos with us.
She should be with us, but she’s not. So pretend, for me, would you?
Pretend that there is a three-month old baby with squishy cheeks and chubby thighs being tossed high into the air in our kitchen. Pretend that in her wispy, blonde hair there is a headband with a big red bow to match the one in my own curly locks. Pretend that her older brother Jack is giving her a big, wet kiss on the lips while her mama and daddy gaze lovingly in the background.
Just for a moment, please pretend for me that there are four of us.
There are four of you! I was thinking about her last night and how important a role she must be playing in preparation for Christ’s second coming, because I know that is why she can’t be with you right now. I also know before you came to earth, you unselfishly agreed to allow her to take part in those preparations. Someday, you will be with her, with matching bows in your hair!
I always imagine the four of you whenever I see a picture of your family. Always thinking of you.