Where, O Death, is Now Thy Sting...

I woke up today, knowing that it's been five months since Dave passed away and he's not coming back.  I reflected on a few of our sweet times together and came online and checked Facebook.  I found out that my step children's maternal grandmother had passed away and my heart broke for them.  I read the first post of my friend's blog site and she had written about the passing of a 42 year old man from her church, who has left behind a wife and 5 young children.

"Where O death, is now thy sting?"

I looked up the definition of sting: any sharp physical or mental wound, hurt, or pain.

The sting is left in the ones who are left behind when a loved one leaves this earth.

• The sting is in the young children who will grow up without a father, wondering why God chose to take him home before they even knew him.
• The sting is in the young adult, left to question his calling, his faith as he struggles without the wisdom and support of a father.
• The sting is in the wife who goes to bed and tries to sleep without her loved one holding her in his strong arms.
• The sting is in the grandchild who can not crawl up into her grandmother's lap and say, "Tell me another story, please, grandma."

The sting is forever embedded into their hearts and though they move on with life and although the observer may not see it, the sting is always there.

The sting causes the tears to fall and reminds us that this life is only temporary and we do not have control over when our loved ones will leave it.  The only thing we have control over is this moment and how we choose to live it. 

I received an email from a friend today and it summed up my thoughts well:

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware, beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Not long ago I read a devotional thought that said, "If we measure life by breathtaking moments, we miss the wonder of ordinary moments....In fact, having breath is more miraculous than anything that takes our breath away."

I wish I could write profoundly like the 2 writers quoted above but then, I don't need to because they say it for me.  But it is as I have said time and time again, especially since Dave passed away, we do need to cherish those we love, make memories with them, love them with all we are and, I guess, dance in the rain.  Sing, even when the tears fall and there's a lump in your throat, laugh, even though you wish you could be sharing that laughter with your loved one as well and share your love out loud.  Say "I love you" as often as you can and hold their hand tight.  Don't take for granted the ordinary moments and be thankful for the quiet, predictable moments.  When you go to bed at night, reflect on the day and be thankful.  Don't end the day with any regrets that you could have prevented.

If all of the above sounds like "too much", then take a step and be thankful, for that is all it is.  Right now I am remembering the steps that Dave and I took together through the woods.  As we walked through the woods around the corner of his parents' home back in October 2009, I knew then that I was in love with Dave and wanted to share the rest of my life with him.  He led the way through the woods and I limped behind him as I had fallen at the start of our trek. He took the photo of me.  We talked a lot, we shared and my heart was full of love for this man, leading me down the garden trail.  I do not have any regrets about my life with Dave.  I only wish we could have shared more moments, ordinary and special, together.