Mudshot Eyes

I’ve realized that there is a moving on and a staying behind when losing someone we love. We move on from the intense pain of that first moment when we hear the tragic news. We move on from our dependence on that person for friendship and support. We then are given opportunity to move on to Christ as we rediscover his incomparable companionship.

But we also stay behind. We stay in the memories that have been sketched in the corridors of our mind. We laugh as we recall the stories that made times with him so special. We stay in those stories because they are the gift that we are left with. A gift of time and moments that are unique and permanent.

Today would have been my cousin Mark’s 35th birthday. A year and a half after losing him to a motorcycle accident, I still think of him on a daily basis, even if just for a moment when some little thing reminds me. I have decided that remembering is OK, even after so much time has passed. In fact, I can’t keep all the stories inside. I often turn to Krista and give prelude to a story that I suddenly recall: “I remember one time when Mark and I were…”

Today I remember how neither one of us ever remembered the other’s birthday. That’s why it was such a surprise to both of us when I called him on the birthday before he died. It’s odd that I can’t forget now that he’s not around to call.