I'm sitting here tonight, realizing it's been 8 months, to the day, since family and friends gathered together and said, "Good bye." Grief today is not nearly as potent as it was back then. Today it comes in small waves, memories lapping at the shore of my consciousness. I think about you and Miranda a lot, but no longer all day every day. I find that I don't cry as often as I used to; but, when I do, the hurt feels so fresh and powerful that it seems like I lost you yesterday.
I listen to music on the radio now, more so than I ever did when you were here. There are songs that reach out and touch me in ways that music never used to; a simple phrase from a song, a chorus repeated softly, inspired words written for others but sung directly to my heat. These tend to be the moments when those waves come crashing in. I don't fight them. Even though it hurts, it feels good to remember, to know that you're no farther away than my thoughts.
I have a playlist I recently created in iTunes called Crying Songs. I was listening to several this evening and wished that I could have sung this verse to you in those final seconds we had together. I don't know if you would have heard me or not, but it's what I wish I could have said if I'd known how bad things were.
"And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!"
Untitled Hymn - Chris Rice
Fly to Jesus, my angles!
I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.
Love,
Chad
