t's been two weeks since you left me. It took me some time to figure that out, as it seems time doesn't exist for me anymore. I drift in and out of days. And although the world appears to have kept moving, I am stuck. You left me. . .and I needed you. And I am scared. Scared I can't be who they need me to me. Scared this pain will never cease or even ease. Scared I will forget you. I miss the way you smell, the way you made me laugh, the way you played with Evelyn. Matt, no one is fun enough for her when compared to you. The emotions are crashing into me day and night, each coming after me with different weapon to destroy my spirit. The bittersweet memories that bring happiness, the loneliness when your arms aren't there to wrap around me, the frustration of the stuff you left behind for me to clean, the guilt for having to let some of you go, the anger for having to lose you too soon, the pain -- sheer pain -- of watching our daughter miss you so very much, and the sadness I feel for Isaac who will never have a chance to know you. You had a way of lighting up each room in our home, and each room now seems a little dimmer. I pray for strength, and at times it is granted to me. But even then the continued tearing of my heart seems too much to bear. All I have now is my trust in God. Trust that He would not take you without purpose, trust that suffering brings refinement, trust that He will lead me through, trust that He will provide. I plead with the Spirit to fill me up, to remind me of the cross, to remind me this is only my temporary home, and there will be a day when all my tears are wipes away. The problem is. . .my temporary home is a vast and unknown foreign land without you.
You are missed.