You would have turned 18 on Valentine's Day, and here we are on the edge of 17 years without you. Although the years have passed, the grief continues, evolves, and takes new shape along with us. I used to shy away from this grief and tried to place distance between us. I am wiser now, knowing that the wave of pain is a link, and life-line to you. We grieve much only because we have loved much and when I think of grief as a tie of love, I can't help but make space and welcome her in like a beloved friend.
It would be your graduating year, and you would be on the precipice of adulthood. We would be picking out graduation dresses, driving around together (stopping at Starbucks for your fav bevy), picking out possible career paths, and perhaps meeting a wonderful person who makes you light up in a way that no one else does. I grieve these moments and live in this sort of dream-like state of paused time and wonder who you would be. It brings a torrent of sorrow and reminders of all I missed out on and all I will continue to miss out on. I am missing these pivotal moments that would gel together in order to create the adult you would become. And it is in this turbulent space, the grief is transforming again, morphing my heart from one that has lost a baby, then child, and now an adult.
Life evolves and as a parent, it shifts you from the role of pilot, to co-pilot, to passenger, and ultimately to the eager greeter awaiting for landing in the arrivals lounge with a poster saying "Welcome Home." This is a grief that every parent experiences with time. I don't think anyone prepared me for how much this season would stretch me, my faith, and my trust in Jesus. Learning that our job as parents is to prepare our children to launch well, and in so, shifting the perspective from our identity as empty nesters to bird launchers (Kami Gilmour - Release My Grip). It is our greatest transformation as parents, and it takes grit, perseverance and a lot of prayer. As hard as it is to let your adult children fly away, there is a different pain and grief from not being able to see that flight this side of heaven. And this is where I find myself today, reflecting on who Grace would have been and it's twisting my heart into all sorts of anguish.
I will treasure all that I remember of you as a baby, and allow myself the indulgence of imagining you as a child and now as an adult in wholeness, made perfect by our Creator. I have made it through another season and cycle of grief, and have allowed it to transform me once again, preparing me for my own final destination and flight home, one day.
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart...
(Ecclesiastes 3:11a)
