Have I told you that before? Yeah, once or twice. Are you leaning over my shoulder right now, watching my
fingers fly across the keyboard? You’re probably sighing a little at the way I
carry on like this. Or maybe – maybe you miss me, too.
I keep wondering, are you allowed to miss people when
you live in Heaven? Do you even realize I’m not there yet? Or maybe the
experience of “yet” doesn’t even exist since there’s no actual time
happening there. Is “happen” even a word you use when you live outside of time?
Am I making any sense?
I think I’m giving myself a headache.
I keep trying to understand what your life might look
like now. I was so afraid right after you left that you’d forget me. I wanted
to know if you still need me, but I was afraid to hear the answer because I
assumed you don’t. How could you? Why would you? You have everything now. Everything
except me. The best thing is you’re face to face with Jesus Who is perfect love
and joy and peace.
How can I compete with that?
I went to a funeral this week, the first since I drove
to Florida to attend yours four years ago this month. It’s only been four years since
I sat on that front row at the cemetery, staring at your grave. Four years
might not sound like a long time but now I count the time in ‘day after days’,
so actually it’s a lot.
Not for you, I guess, since you guys don’t need clocks
in Heaven, but you may remember that here, in this dimension, if you don’t have
a clock you won’t have a job or friends or a hair appointment. Even the sun and
the moon believe in clocks down here. But I’m betting that when I finally show
up to get that hug from you that I’m dying for, you’ll think I was right behind
you the entire time, so to speak. And for the first time ever, you won’t even
care that I’m a little late.
Living someplace where time doesn’t matter anymore
sounds like heaven to me.
There are probably lots of things we won’t need once we
get to the Other Side, like trust. Do you ever wish I could trust God now as
well as you did? It’s not a fair question, you know, since you can see Him face
to face and I’m still stuck here depending on faith. You don’t need faith anymore, or hope either. What remains, the Bible says, is love, and you have that in
spades. Now that I think about it, I’m guessing you don’t have the Bible there,
either. When you have the Author, why do you need a book?
I know, I’m rambling. Sitting here trying to burn off
pain. It happens off and on every day, even after all these days, all one
thousand six hundred and sixteen of them. 1616 days. That doesn’t sound like a
lot either unless you live them one by one like I do. That reminds me. Did you
know there are actually 1,026 pieces in a 1000 piece puzzle? I do. Except for
mine which only had 1,025. I know because I counted out every piece of one last
week to see if they were all there.
Well, it passes the time. I keep coming back to that
word you don’t even need anymore.
I’m not sure I’m widowing right, baby. I still cry
every single day, multiple times a day. When all the widows I know feel safe
enough to be honest, they admit they’re doing the same thing. So, either I’m
widowing right or we’re all widowing wrong. Either way, I’m in good company.
Except I’m so sorry that the reason I’ve met these women is because their
hearts shattered just like mine did.
I stand at your tall dresser when I get ready for bed
at night, look into your face in the photo I took of you on our 40th
anniversary Alaskan cruise and, just before I fall apart, I ask you, “How are
you not here?” After all this time, it’s still inconceivable to me. I guess you
are here. Everyone says you are, that you’re always with me. But if that’s
true, it’s so unfair that you can see me and I can’t see you.
Nothing is fair about this.
I didn’t want forty-four years with you. I wanted
more. A lot more. I deserved more. I know you know the answers to why I didn’t
get more, why you didn’t get more time with me, but I don’t have the luxury of
full knowledge the way you do now. I have to keep living in the time-space
continuum.
You know, Will and I go on adventures through time and
space together now. We found a portal. Maybe you could meet up with us there
sometime. Some people call it a car wash, but we know the truth. He and I go there
to save the universe. We climb inside my silver spaceship, follow the portal into
another galaxy, fight off all the bad guys, take a few hits, endure cosmic
slime and alien boogers for which I’ll need an actual car wash later, and just
before the intergalactic volcano heats up our craft to the melting point and
blows us to smithereens, we complete our mission and return to our planet safe
and sound.
Sometimes Will gets confused by my pseudo-scientific explanations about how the aliens are trying to destroy us. He looks at me with
a quizzical expression on his face and wants to know, “Are you making that up?”
Well, duh. We’re in a car wash and calling it a portal. Of course I’m making it
up. That’s when I tell him, Chief would be so much better at this. He’d know how
to talk SciFi with you, and the two of you would probably annihilate seventeen
evil galaxies instead of the typical one or two you and I manage to pull off. But
Chief is busy in heaven and I’m the one driving this spaceship now.
I had to promote him to co-commander two weeks ago since
he’s so much smarter than me when it comes to space stuff. I’m still the main
commander, though. He’s too short to have a driver’s license. And besides, I
own this spaceship.
You’re starting to worry about me, aren’t you?
Join the club. I worry about me, too.
Life is SO different now without you here beside me.
It’s very quiet. Which is why I watch a lot of television. I need to hear human
voices even if they have no idea who I am. It’s a poor substitute for you. I
told Katy the other day that I watch Hallmark movies because they’re
predictable and cheerful and have a good ending, but they also make me cry. It’s
hard to watch even fake love stories since you’re not here to love me anymore.
So, then I switch over to conservative politics on YouTube because there’s
definitely no love there. Everybody’s mad about something going on in the
country and pretty soon my tears stop and I’m mad, too. But then I get tense
and uptight, but I can’t go back to Hallmark, so I found this guy on YouTube
who cuts lawns for people in Detroit for free, and for an hour at a time I knit
and watch a guy whacking weeds. It’s captivating and peaceful. Just a nice guy
with a good heart going out and loving his neighbors. The way our son does.
And then I think of you and how good you were at
keeping our yard looking nice. This guy loves doing yardwork just like you did
but, the sad thing is, no one ever comes outside to help him. They thank him
and appreciate his hard work on their behalf, but he does it all by himself. If
you were here, I know you’d help him. If we lived in Detroit, that is. And
pretty soon, even though there’s no love story and no angry politicians on his
channel, I’m crying again because you were so good at doing lawn work and
worked just as hard as this guy and I don’t know if I ever told you how much I
loved that about you.
This is getting really long. I’d worry that I’m taking up too much of your time, but I don’t think you have any. Still, let me finish with the lyrics to a song Dan wrote about me this week. He uses an app to write songs about all of us. They’re awesome. And it makes me feel better about the way I spend my time now.
“She knits in the morning, she knits in the night,
Scarves for the summer? Feels just right.
She’s got yarn in the fridge, needles in her shoes,
And a pie in the oven she forgot to use.
She watches lawnmowers go vroom-vroom fast,
Commentates like it’s a NASCAR blast.
Eula Time, it’s cozy and loud,
Pies on the table, head in the clouds.
Knittin’ like lightning, bakin’ with flair,
Yellin’ “That’s a Briggs & Stratton, don’t you dare!”
She’s a one-woman show with a pie-stained map,
And she’d rather watch mowers than take a nap.”
I guess I do have a lot of things to help pass the time,
and now there’s a Top Forty hit song to prove it. I’m finishing that novel I
started five years ago. I’ve knitted about two dozen blankets in the last
couple of years that I give away to friends and family. And I’m keeping Kleenex
in business. I have a lot on my plate. I guess I can’t complain. Oh yeah, and Will
and I keep saving the Universe one galaxy at a time. I understand if you can’t meet up
with me in the portal. At least I still see you in my dreams.
I’m doing fine. I really only miss you sometimes.
Like every time I breathe.
With thanks to Christoffer Undisclosed for permission to use the photo seen above. The original can be viewed by following this link: sundial | It was actually off by a few minutes, but never mi… | Flickr
