One year later...

Today was hard. I knew it would be, but I didn't think it would be this hard. Lewis said grief sometimes felt like an imaginary blanket between him and the world. Like he couldn't understand what others were saying, or maybe, he didn't want to understand. "It is," he said, "so uninteresting."
And that, in a nut shell, was my day. I muddled through, hardly taking notice of others around me. My only purpose today was to stay busy. I didn't realize it until now, but the day, and everything in it, was exactly that--uninteresting. I know it is the way of things, but I couldn't understand how everyone else was going about their life as if everything was normal. For me, things weren't normal. I wonder if they ever will be.
It wasn't until I was walking home today that I realized (or more like remembered): death isn't the end! J. isn't lost--he is more found now then he ever was! I KNOW where he is! Should that not be cause for celebration and not tears? Perhaps so.
It is funny how much goes by in a year. Jobs come and go. Birthdays, workdays, holidays. So many anniversaries, too. I look forward to the coming years when this day doesn't send me images of raw grieving. When I don't see faces and bodies wracked with sobs. When my heart doesn't break. When I can remember the life that was lived, the joy that he brought, and the hope of the redeemed.

J. I can't wait to see you again!