Saying Goodbye

"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives.....To comfort all who mourn, to grant those who mourn in Zion, giving them a garland instead of ashes. The oil of gladness instead of mourning. The mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting. So they will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified." Isaiah 61:1-3

Yesterday I said goodbye to yet another integral part of my life. I have said goodbye to my three and a half year old daughter, to her little clothes and toys and security toy, a little terry cloth monkey...those things will not be folded in the wash or picked up from the floor or frantically looked for before bed....they were given away or tucked away in the attic where one day when my hands are wrinkle and my hair white and my heart ready they will be brought out and I will lovingly hold ready to say goodbye one last time before I see her...Yesterday we put away and gave away Ron's things. He has moved and I said goodbye to all the little things that made him Ron. Something were easy to pull out and fold and give away, suits and ties, work shoes and briefcase...though he worked for IBM and had to wear a suit and tie he never felt comfortable in one. I know he would have been relieved to have gotten rid of that. In fact he was so laid back that I remember one work review where the only negative comment about his performance was that he was too casual. We even buried him in his favorite pair of jeans, Life if Good teeshirt and his worn pair of birkenstocks. Now I don't know if you're suppose to bury people with shoes, but I did Ron, simply because he was always walking around in those and though he had several newer pairs in the closet, those were molded to his feet so good that it was the only thing he wore after a long run when his feet were sore. He crossed the finish line at the Jacksonville Half Marathon so naturally his feet would be in those. The rest of his things, the ones I saw him most in, hiking shirts, cycling clothes, all the race shirts we had accumulated running together, were like tucking in memories for later, a fast forward movie going in my head of all the finish lines crossed, the mountains climbed and the roads traveled. My hands caressed his favorite shirt the one that said "Not all those who wander are lost" and was put away for that one day when my hands are wrinkle, my hair is white and my heart is ready to see him again. I am not lost, just wandering thru this grief and moving forward to life.....

I thought it would be harder. In fact many thought it was too soon. Too soon for what? We all grieve differently and there is no wrong way to handle the pain. I am doing what must be done so that the girls and I can more forward to life. Walking around this house as if he still lives here doesn't help. He has moved away to better home, a mansion in the presence of Christ. He lacks nothing of this earth, and all these things do is prolong the process that will move us forward.

I have to cling to His promises. He will comfort us in this season, even in my darkest hour when the house is quiet and my heart feels empty like the shelfs in the closet. We will soon exchange our ashed for His garland, for His oil of gladness and His mantle of praise so we can grow into oaks of righteousness for His glory.