It’s the end of February. Time for me to think back on the time I thought, “God got it wrong…”
Six years ago this day, He took her home, leaving me alone with three children ages, 4, 7 and 9, and an emptiness in my soul. I was convinced He got it wrong. I should’ve been the one to die. The children would’ve been far better off with Cathy than I. She would be much better suited to raising them alone than I. Moms are like that. They know where everything is: The clean sheets, the cheese grater, the batteries for the remote. They know where the heart is too. They know just when to offer that soft touch, when the kids have fallen off their bikes, or get tagged out at home plate, or don’t get asked out by the cute boy.
God got it wrong. That thought festered a while. Then time did its thing.
They say that time heals all wounds. I’d say that, at best, it smooths over the rough edges of grief, but time never actually heals the wound. It’s been six years now and the hole in my heart gapes open wide for any who passes by too close. Ask me about her and I’ll tell you some funny stories and remember her infinite love for children, friends and family… Eventually, if we talk long enough, I’ll shed some tears. There’s no avoiding it really. The loss is just so… relentless.
Yet we are blessed beyond rational thought. Our family has grown, in size and in love. Cathy’s children are thriving, hopeful, faithful… all of the things she wanted them to be. And, miraculously, her home is filled with the love of two additional children now, something that would simply ignite her smile and her heart.
It’s important to remember that the miraculous things that followed her passing have not happened because she died. In fact, they happened because she lived. Hers was a most graceful life and so, it’s fitting, that in it’s wake, grace is what remains.
It remains my prayer that I honor that graceful life. I really do try. I’ve learned many things. I’ve learned that God doesn’t get things wrong… I do. That’s okay because it’s what I do next that matters the most. I’ve learned how to soften my touch when the kids need it the most. And I’ve finally learned where the batteries are for the remote.
Of course, now I can’t find the remote.