Four years have passed since our Patrick went home to be with the Lord. In the midst of the endearing family memories we have, I am thinking of friends who drove 3 hours to be with us just shortly after his passing. It had been four years since they had lost their daughter. Their pain still ached, though they thought of us.
The four of us sat in booths and cried together. Even though they came for us in the midst of our sorrow, they too still hurt so deeply. Unashamedly, they wept for us as they wept in their pain. How unselfish that they shared their time of sorrow with us, rather than withdrawing into themselves.
We will never forget their tenderness, their understanding, the language we parents share when one of our children has gone home. Until someone experiences it….well, I will stop here. Grief is still grief, regardless of how it got there. But grief shared somehow validates the love you have for this one you are missing.
Today, I think of Heaven. I think of the reunion we will have while I imagine what Patrick must be doing in this perfect place with the Lord. Never will I forget the portal opening just days after he passed when he spoke to me: “Mama, if you could see me now!!! All that we have believed is REAL!” Once again, so like Patrick, he had to share his joys with me.
Yes, Patrick, just as we told you and you believed as a young boy: He IS real. I can only imagine what joy it must be: now you see Him face to face. Our story is written, and it has helped so many, as God intended.
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