7 Years

        Yesterday, May 2, 2024, marked the 7th anniversary of Doug's entering the presence of the Lord. Seven years. It seems like it was just the other day and so long ago at the same time. I think of him every day. My thoughts can be memories of our life and ministry in Brazil or of the time we were in Cleveland during treatment. Most often, I remember those last few days in the ICU of the hospital. The pain hits with that sweet tightness in my chest. It's familiar now and doesn't catch me by surprise.

The tears still pool in my eyes at random thoughts and remembrance. They roll down my cheeks as I share them with the grief support group. Someone hands me a tissue from the ever-present box on the little round table in the middle of the circle. The others look at me nodding their heads in understanding. Some are teary as well. I feel arms embrace me from behind whispering, "I'm praying for you," in my ear. "Thank you," I say. We all sit there in silence for a moment. I imagine they are remembering their losses as well. It's why we're here. 

Then I look at the flowers one gentleman brought in today. He brings different ones every week. Some grow wild on his property. Others were planted in his garden area. He asks me to take a picture because my iPhone will identify the type of flower it is. There's always some conjecture beforehand. Someone is usually correct in their guess. This week they were yellow Iris. They remind me of sunshine and my mood brightens.

Deep breath. Ok, I think I'm good now. We continue our discussion and share examples of how the Lord has worked in our hearts and lives to bring us to a point in which we can be joyful. The pain is there, but joy is mixed in. It doesn't lessen the hurt. It makes it bearable. It will never go away. The pain, I mean. I'll take that to my own grave. For now, I'll live with it and move forward.

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