You

When I cried, you held me.

You listened to me wail, and you did not stop me.

When I couldn’t go on, you helped me to go on. You allowed me to go on.

When the emptiness consumed me, you reminded me that you were still there, that I hadn’t lost you.

You were so devastated yourself, yet you were a rock for me.

It was your son you lost – your firstborn son – yet you never questioned God, you were never angry with Him. You trusted Him then, and you trust Him still.

You enabled me to survive that terrible night. And the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.

In the darkest hours, you brought me comfort. You shone light into places where there was none.

You gave me strength when I had none.

You allowed me to grieve, to cry, to mourn, to shed endless tears, to scream, to be angry, to be upset, and to be silent.

Never once did you show me impatience.

Because you understood. You understood my pain.

It was your pain too. You allowed me to express our pain.

You have remained so honourable, so gracious, even as we continue to make sense of our loss.

You have changed much since our son died. Grief and loss – together they have grown you and they continue to carve you into the man to whom God has entrusted much.

You are my partner, my leader, my support, my confidante, my comfort, and my friend. My best friend.

You are my husband.

And you have loved me better than you love yourself.

For better or for worse… – that vow you made, you have not broken.

And though we have lost our son, there is no one else with whom I would walk this road.

And we shall continue.

Till death do us part, or until Christ returns.

Tagged as: children, grief, husband, marriage