I Have to be Comforted Believing

It's been a week. Almost to the minute.

O God.

It's been a week.

Since my little Everett met Jesus.

I miss his face.

I struggle to remind myself this is my reality.

I struggle to pretend life is all ok.

I struggle to pretend my head is clear.

But I hug my two precious boys and love them deeper than I ever thought possible. I hold my husband's hand tighter, more in love than I ever thought possible. A better mother. A better wife.

And I am sad Everett won't know that. I'm sad that I will only be able to imagine what his first birthday would've been like. What his laugh would sound like.

But I have no choice. And though it honestly isn't a lot of comfort, I have to be comforted believing my little boy is perfected in the arms of Jesus. As he lies in the arms of a longing, loving mother. Or father. Cooing with Nathan and Miracle. With Felicity playing Mommy. And Landon telling him about heaven. And all the other babies who met Jesus long before their families were ready to send them.

It's been a week.

O God.

It's been a week.

And right now, everyday is harder than the one before. As the focus of attention has shifted from everyone else to just us. Our family. Day in and day out. Missing one of its pieces. But fuller in love, grace, and peace than we would've been otherwise.

But I still miss him. Even though I am at peace. I still miss him. And one day. One day. It won't be harder than the day before. One day. One day. It will be only happy tears for those 3 1/2 hours instead of sad tears for the lifetime I miss him.