Beautiful

Beautiful.
It feels like a word that belongs in the past.  That describes something missing.  Something that never quite had a chance to finish what it started.  We had the whole world at our fingertips.  We had dreams, plans, somedays.  Until that day, when you were called home.  Now the morning looks daunting.  The nights are so long.  The future unsure.

When will life look beautiful again?  Will I have to wait until I see you again?  Will I ever get up in the morning and want to plan for the future?

I see the three beautiful faces of our children.  Three beautiful legacies that you left behind.  They can still laugh easily and find things to get excited about.  They look at their lives ahead and aren't afraid.  They remember things you taught them and the time you spent with them.

Most days I just try not to think about you too much.  How empty the bed is.  How none of the buses that come through Hyrum will ever bring you home to me again.  How we will never take that trip through the country stopping at all the major league baseball parks.  You will never get to go backpacking through Europe.  (I never could get too excited about that!)  You won't get to hold our grandkids or sit at Thomas's lacrosse games with me.  Ordain the boys to be Elders or talk to Annelise's dates.

Mostly I try to remember how you made me feel.  Safe.  Loved.  Protected.  Good enough.  Smart.  Fun.  Whole.  I love remembering how you made others feel.  I try to reach out like you would but it's not the same.  So mostly I smile.  Sometimes it's not even a fake smile.

What is still beautiful is the gospel.  Our Savior's life and love for us.  I know he bore not only my sins, but my grief and my sorrow and my pain as well.  I am learning to lean on Him more than you.  He regularly helps me stop running scenes of that morning through my head and helps me sleep at night.  He helps me hear the beautiful sounds of birds singing.  He sent me a network of family and friends and workout buddies long before I knew I was going to need them so much.  He sent me the Nielsens to help me remodel my house and an army of people to help them.  He inspires people to call when I have a bad day and gives me work to keep me going.  He inspired the Morreys to move here and adopt us into their family and sit with us at church so the bench doesn't seem so empty.

I had no idea this would hurt so much.  Six months later and I still feel so broken.  Lost.  Empty.  Alone.  I have to remind myself that I am not alone.  I am not lost.  I am not empty.  Or even broken.  I am living the life and plan that my Heavenly Father has for me.  I will keep going and moving and living.  Breathing in and out.  Keep taking care of those three beautiful kids.   Keep going through the motions until some of it feels normal.  And someday it isn't going to hurt quite so much every day.

Thank you for so many memories.  So much laughter.  So many images in my mind of you smiling.  That is how I think of you.  Smiling.  It makes my future there look beautiful.

{Thank you, Deb Reynolds, for your post [Beautiful] OR [Five Minute Friday on a Sunday].  I didn't follow the rules exactly, I don't know how to write without editing as I go and I sure went over my 5 minutes!}