I bought a new mug a week or two ago. I’m not even sure why, because I have one of those heater mugs for my morning coffee… meaning, I use the same one every day. But nonetheless, this mug jumped out at me and so it go put in the drawer with the other mugs; that I never use. And before I could even think about using it, it got a chip in the rim. It seems fitting, and there is likely a metaphor for life in 2020 in that story, for a mug about how God makes everything beautiful in its time, would get a crack - an imperfection - yet today, as I reached for the cold coffee in the end of the pot, I pulled out the mug and stuck it in the microwave. Because even with a crack, it still holds coffee. It still delivers caffeine to the tired mind of a mom at christmastime… and its microwave safe so it doesn’t present a fire hazard while I enjoy the said caffeine.
I think that since George’s story began, there has been a lot of deeper exploration of the not so readily read parts of the Bible. Finding hope in Lamentations 3:23 and seeing God’s divine fingerprints in our story through Ecclesiastes 3:11. To the less well known psalms of lament that give validation to my despair and yet hope for the newness promised in eternity. I take refuge in the wings of my Father. I am guided by my Shepard. I can clap my hands and shout for joy because God is my God.
Its so interesting how grief comes in waves. How some days it hits hard and punches me in the gut. How other days its just a dull ache; felt in my muscles as if I’d run a marathon. And then other days, its almost not even there. Watching my kids, plural, play around the house has brought enormous joy to our 2020. And yet, as Harry gets bigger and I see him begin to interact with his big sister, I find I’m missing George Mason just a little bit more. It was easy to stuff the emotions of missing a sibling for Audrey when I didn’t really understand what I was missing. There wasn’t a tangible example of a brother sister relationship to remind me or pain me. There was just an empty house. An only child. A playroom full of dresses and baby dolls. When there were never trains or dinosaurs to begin with, its hard to fully comprehend what its like to have them taken away. Yet now, we have a brother in the flesh. And each and every time I see the adoration in Harry’s eyes for his big sister, and I see the excitement in Audrey’s as she shares the world with her little brother, I miss George in a way that I’ve not had to face before. The chaos of 3 littles, 5, 3, and 8m, is so different from the dynamic of two littles with a 5 year age gap.
Over Thanksgiving we had my siblings come to town. There are four living grand babies, the two that aren’t mine are 2 year old boys. (moms of twins, I salute you…. 2 2 year olds was a lot of 2 year olds) Watching Audrey with them and them with Harry melted my heart in the best of ways and broke it in the worst. George would be nearly 4 by now. He would have been the ring leader of the boy gang. He would have guarded the little men from the big boss, his sister, and he very likely would have engaged in and created lots of mischief; that those 2 year old boys would have no doubt loved. But, instead of that, we had a sort of calm - not really calm, because toddlers - that made it obvious there was a little boy missing. Again, in a way that I haven’t had to face before. New grief for a new stage of life.
This is our reality, I suppose, for basically forever. I’m not sure there will ever be a time when we enter a new life stage that George’s missing piece doesn’t hit us hard. We will forever miss his little soul - and as we age, even into empty nesters, we will miss the man he could have become and the woman he would have brought home, and the children he would have raised. When the McGough kids gather for thanksgiving as adults, there won’t be just one person missing, but an entire family. I imagine that will be hard for my kids one day too. Grief isn’t selective in its wake. Every person along the path will have to face it. My kids aren’t even old enough (Harry wasn’t alive) to really remember George, yet they will carry a piece of his story and the grief that comes with it, with them forever. Audrey will always have a brother she met but never knew. Harry will always be the 3rd child in a family with only 2. I don’t know yet how exactly that part of their identity will shape them as humans, but I know that God promises to make all things beautiful in its time.
