Today they would have been married for 40 years. I don’t have any pictures of both them (they are most likely in boxes in my dad’s garage) but I was given this gem when I was in Florida a couple of weeks ago. Traveling back in time to before death stole life from us. Not just her life, but all of the life that she was supposed to live with the rest of us. The years and years of marriage that her and my daddy still had to look forward to. The decades of soccer games, ballet recitals, FSU football tailgates, graduations, weddings, that she was supposed to attend.
Sometimes I wonder if this day (and her birthday) aren’t actually harder than her heavenly birthday? Because when I face March 12, I face her entrance into eternity and celebrate the day that she was made whole. That’s something that is really hard to be sad about. But when I get to today, I have to face the reality of all that we are missing - all of the life that my siblings, my dad, and my kids/nieces & nephews will live without her.
On days like today I ache for my dad. For the loss he has to face every morning as he wakes up and my mama isn’t beside him. For the holidays and birthdays and births of their grandchildren that he has to go through and experience alone. On their 40th anniversary, I’m reminded of how lost I would be if Adam were gone; and it’s only been 10 years. Sure, my dad can rest in knowing she’s in heaven, but that doesn’t fix the heart break and identity crisis he is living on earth.
I pray often for the world to seem less miserable on days like today, for my dad, but for all of us. That each of the loved ones that were left behind when my mama got to hear the words of her Father “well done, my good and faithful servant” - would feel the embrace of that same Father and know that it’s ok to keep living. To keep breathing. To celebrate the highs. But that it’s also ok to acknowledge and sit in the lows. That neither the highs nor the lows define this life, but instead are just pieces of the story God has written - our identity is, and always will be, wrapped fully in our adoption as His children.
Today hit me a little harder than I expected. Maybe because 40 years feels big and maybe because my mama was such a party lady. But instead of gathering her tribe from all across the country, we aren’t celebraTing a 40th wedding anniversary, we are mourning what should have been. The example of our parents godly marriage is not an active presence in our lives anymore. Instead of looking to mama and daddy for wisdom in their experiences, we are navigating our own paths. Not alone, but not in the way we imagined. That’s a harsh reality. And a sad one. It makes me cherish my husband more than I probably would otherwise. It makes me thankful for the 9 years we’ve had so far, even if they have been riddled with grief. It makes me look forward to the next year and decade and quarter century. But it also reminds me that this marriage, this earthly existence, is temporary and fleeting. And that our duty in this life is to live a life that is for the glory of God, while knowing that in the end, our true treasure is in heaven; not in this earthly body.
