Four years ago today our oldest son, Christopher, went to heaven.
Though this is one of those days that marks time, we miss him each and every day.
Here is something my wife Cathe wrote that sums up how I feel as well:
Four years ago today, at 9:01 am, my firstborn son Christopher left this world and was ushered in (as Elizabeth Elliot so beautifully put it) “Through Gates of Splendor.”
I struggle to find a way to express my four-year-old grief. It’s a burden that grows ever lighter…and ever heavier. Like Frodo’s ring, it is both treasured and dreaded.
Around his grave, under the olive tree, I’ve replanted flowers of fragrant lavender and rosemary.
Just recently, the oxidized lettering on the stone bench began to fade. We had it reapplied and darkened it again. (Greg chose the particular font Helvetica because it was a font Christopher liked.)
Last year, the little modern birdhouse and feeder Stella and Lucy hung in the olive tree mysteriously disappeared. Brittany replaced it.
The tree’s grown taller, wilder, and needs pruning each fall–a reminder of each passing season.
We are older. His precious children are taller, more beautiful, and full of personality and talent. His brother has a family, a wife, and just this month a third child. This one, a boy, is named in his honor.
Life continues, and every day, every day we miss him.
Looking back, and at where we are now, and the unusual things that the Lord has done, I am grateful…but not fully satisfied. What I want, and am certain I will have one day, is for a restoration of all things.