I Can’t Imagine

  1

… hearing this daily from others.

… sleeping in his bed every night.

… setting his alarm to wake you up.

… taking a shower in his shower every morning.

… getting dressed in his closet.

… doing his laundry for the last time.

… eating his Oreos and drinking his Dr. Peppers.

… driving his truck on the road of the accident.

… getting home to an empty house every single day.

… walking by his empty lazy boy and neck pillow at night.

… raising an 18 month old by yourself.

… seeing things she does or looks she makes that are just like her daddy and not being able to share them with him.

… not having her dad to celebrate all her milestones with.

… tucking her into bed and reading her bedtime stories, while staring at a picture of him.

… cooking for just yourself, when before you had a cheerleader who loved and got excited about every meal.

… using his cell phone as your own.

… reading old texts and emails, which always included an “I love you!”

… hearing his voice on your answering machine when someone calls.

… how anyone is expected to endure this much pain.

… having a perfect life come to an end in a matter of seconds.

… seeing him on the highway bleeding out clearly not on this Earth.

… holding a screaming child who is yelling for her daddy. “dada, cott, dada, cott”

… calling our parents and telling them the tragedy.

… the power of prayer.

… waiting in a hospital room feeling totally helpless.

… having a doctor come in and telling you “he didn’t make it.”

… laying on his lifeless body with so much internal pain you think you might die.

… losing a spouse, a best friend, a lover, a father to your child and unborn children, your breadwinner, your high school sweet heart, your therapist, your “go-to” person, your spiritual leader, your financial consultant, your Mr. Fix it and Do it!

… the stresses of death on you and what consumes your brain daily.

… being expected to keep living when part of your heart has passed away.

… the day you will see him again.

… his first hour in paradise.

… seeing Christ’s face for the first time.

… eternal life.

I. Can’t. Imagine. It. Either.

 

In His Grip.

Lindsey

This entry was posted in Grieving. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

11 Comments