Nine years seems like a turning point in my grief journey. Or maybe it's just how I'm processing this particular year. My mind & heart are much more focused on the future we are missing, rather than what happened in the past. Possibly it's because more and more of Paul's friends are married and having children, getting settled into their careers, etc. One thing I learned about grief a long time ago is that my heart can hold opposite & conflicting emotions all at the same ...time;I've learned to live with "side by side" emotions and thoughts. In this stage of my life, of my grief, the conflicts come in the form of 100% joy and excitement for these young people I love as they experience the delights of this life God has given us; side by side with a distressing bout of jealousy and sometimes, anger. Grief is complex, as are human emotions and responses. This morning I am more consumed with "what Paul is missing; what we are missing" than with "what happened 9 years ago".

However, no matter what I feel on any particular day,and this day in particular, it all boils down to: Paul is gone from the earth. The days of his life, written in God's book, ended on Nov. 6, 2005. I search my mind for memories, distressed that his face and voice aren't as easily retrieved. I enjoy driving through Wichita because I know that places will trigger memories and feelings. I'm glad we live in an age that allowed me to take pictures so that I have memories preserved more clearly than my mind seems to be able to preserve.

Death is final. On this earth. Only One has risen from the dead, but because of Him, I have hope. I know this isn't the end. I mourn only the future on this earth, but can rejoice that there is an eternal future yet to come.

So, today, I mark another year that I can't see, touch, or hear my son. I hurt, I wonder why. And yet, there is peace that the Lord is faithful, is in control, and I can leave the questions with Him.
Paul, I miss your clomping boots, your laugh, your quiet helpfulness. Some things I don't actually MISS, but they were all you, and I would prefer to be dealing with them, rather than without them, without you. I miss being able to talk with you; we were alike in so many ways. I miss all of the 19 years I had with you, and I miss a future that will never be. My heart is forever broken.

The beginning of fall always stirs up the memories of Paul. Not that we don't think of him every day, but Gil and I both have had him on our minds more than usual the past couple of days. Yesterday as I drove to meet my friend, I found myself writing a letter to Paul in my head.

"Dear Paul, the intersection where you had the wreck is having a traffic light installed. The entire road is changing shape as they make a new exit/entrance off of 235. Analice is 10, can you believe it? She is enjoying her new school so far. I want to put fall flowers at your grave, but the monument people haven't yet fixed the vase, so it's 

 sitting in the garage. I'll visit, anyway, but I can't bring flowers, for the first time. It makes me sad. Laura is getting married soon. I wish you were here to be a groomsman, to dance with her again, as you danced with her at Erin's wedding."

On and on. I know I'm not telling him the changes in our lives, but rather, trying to grasp how much time has passed, how much he has missed, how much we have missed, trying to process it in my own head.

Fall. It used to be my favorite season, but I hesitate to say that anymore. I do like the weather turning cooler, but what fall really means to me is another reliving of "the last time..." incidents, and dealing with the death anniversary of my son. I think lately I've told people who ask, that winter is my favorite season.

Dear Paul, I've discovered another way I've changed, since you died...."