Like a Flower in the Snow

Grief is an odd emotion. There really isn't any descriptor that puts the reality of separation into perspective. Sometimes grief feels like salt being ground into a wound. Sometimes it is like a warm cup of coffee touching a cold hand. Sometimes it is like a flower in the snow. It is a jumble of heart, soul and spirit. And as each day passes I struggle with trying to sort it all out.

So many memories that flood my thoughts in the night. And really no one to talk them out with. After all - who but me really wants to remember the funny stories - like the huge TV we just had to have to watch the Super Bowl back in 1996. The one that we really couldn't afford. Or the time we drove the mountain pass in Yosemite and me wondering why it was that Ray always chose the direction with me looking out over the cliffs. Or how about the time when we lived in Florida and I ironed a shirt on the glass table top only to have it fall into Ray's lap. All of those are memories. All of those are like salt ground into an open wound.

What of the man who always listened? It is so hard not to have those ears any more. I have so many questions I want to ask of him. Things that will never be asked. I have so many warm thoughts - times when we shared the deepest of joys and even the deepest of sorrows. I think of the times when we held our little ones while they were sick and wondered if they would get well. I think of the times when we would dream of how they would grow to adulthood and what they would become. Oh how proud he was of them. All of those thoughts and questions are like a warm cup of coffee touching a cold hand.

The past and its changes. I wonder if forgiveness was given? I believe it was. I know that while it was never voiced - it was acted out. The hurt of the past is buried under the blanket of God's forgiveness. The white carpet of snow reminds me of the how my sin, my pain has all been wiped away by the shed blood of God's precious son. And out of all of that pain - all of that hurt - a flower can blossom. And the grief I feel now will give birth to that life. It will help me to remember Ray for the wonderful part of my life he was. I miss him. I miss knowing he was close. I miss knowing that he will not be with us in the days to come. But like a flower that pushes its way up through the snow - there is hope. Hope that we can grow to be more like the Master because of the witness of this precious part of our lives.