One Month or an Eternity?

Caleb,

It has been one month since you crossed beyond the veil.
One month since the ground beneath my feet gave way.
One month that somehow holds a lifetime of grieving.

When Grandpa died, I cried many tears. We missed him. You missed him.
Then one year later, Grandma followed, and we cried again. Losing loved ones is never easy, but we grieved together.
Two years after that, we lost Meme—and once more, tears flowed freely.

You loved each of your grandparents deeply. Every loss left its mark on you. On all of us.

And now, years later, our family is carrying a grief we never imagined would be ours.

Losing you.

Young. Healthy. Vibrant.
Full of life and laughter. Always excited to be with family and friends.
Serving with your whole heart.
Quietly worrying about your future—about getting things right, about not being enough.

Caleb, you were enough.
You always were.
I hope you see that now.

And your future? In the short term, it is brighter than the rest of ours. That truth allows me to smile.

Actually I have found a lot to smile about. I know you would not want me wrapped in sorrow, unable to move forward—and I am not.
But please know this: I will grieve your loss every day of my life.

Grief does not mean the absence of joy.

I can grieve and still laugh with family and friends.
I can grieve and work during the day, then play games in the evening.
I can grieve while loving others and doing the things I love.

Grief walks beside me now. It always will. Sometimes I can't do anything but cry. Sometimes the tears won't come even if I want them. But either way, the grief stays -- a deep, sacred ache in my heart. 

I love the good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Jeremiah 1:5 reminds me:
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you…”

God knew you before you ever drew breath. He knows you still.
And you have returned to Him—far sooner than we expected.
We do not know the reasons, but we trust the Creator.

In this knowledge I can have peace that I will see you again. We all will.

I can grieve and have peace.

And though this past month has felt like an eternity of sorrow, I have been blessed to glimpse eternity through my grief.

Caleb, I love you,

Love, Mom 

PS.

I now envision you like this:

 

But I remember you like this:

 

Both versions make me proud.