I pulled out Dan’s watch today and held it for one minute. I checked the date and time, it was all correct. It hasn’t lost track of time since it was placed in my hands two years ago.
Two years ago when he died and time no longer mattered to him. Two years ago when he thought the worst thing was the best thing.
Two years later and I can’t say the pain has gone away, but we are healed. It’s not a raw wound anymore, but a dull ache in the corners of our hearts. A reminder that something will always be missing.
I have found a way through. I crossed through my grief and anguish to find a way to keep loving you through the painful past.
Our years together were full of pain as we couldn’t ever fix what was wrong. I suppose through your death you thought you were fixing everything that was bad. It was never ours to fix and if we could have only known that then.
I will continue to forgive you through an unbreakable legacy of healing past hurt. I continually thank you in the smiles of the girls. I constantly forgive myself for my doubt and guilt that lingers. I am convinced that there is beauty and meaning in all things.
How many times did I feel I didn’t have the strength to breathe, but I am here?
How many times did I question what I could have done, but I am here?
How many times did I cry out for help, but I am here?
How many times did the dark shadows threaten the day, but I am here?
I have been given undeniable strength, comforting answers, constant help and warming light because I am here and God was there in all things.
You believed life was painful and without joy, so once did I. I cried out from my burden and was loved through it as a new life was eased from the depth of sorrow.
Your legacy will never be in your death, but in the continuation of the lives left behind to find their purpose. Your death will not be a shadow we shrink from, but the reason we embrace an unfailing God.
Hearts were broken two years ago, but none more than the heart of the One who created you. In His sorrow He gave us a gift; a promise that He would carry us through. Knowing and sharing in our pain, He showered His love down on us so that all of our needs were met in abundance.
I looked at your watch today and thought of the roughly 1,051,200 minutes that you have missed since you died.
In the change of a minute, one of the girls learned to ride a bike.
In the change of a minute, one of the girls learned to spell her name.
In the change of a minute, one of the girls said “I love you” for the first time.
In the change of a minute, one of the girls blew out her birthday candles.
In the change of a minute, one of the girls walked into her first day of school.
In the change of a minute, one of the girls comforted a friend.
In the change of a minute, one of the girls hugged me for no reason.
If only you could have seen what can change in just one minute if you hold on and wait in faith.
That dull ache is a little sharper today as I recognize the anniversary of your death, but I’ve learned that it only serves as a reminder to hold tighter to the One who loved us both without fail and with a greater love than we could have comprehended.
Until we meet again, I will seek the beauty in all things.