Why?

I sit here, with tears streaming down my face. I am weeping. Not for Trevor this time. A new friend, my boss, just lost her daughter to cancer. She had less than a month since diagnosis to deal with the shock, be with her daughter and grandchildren, and say goodbye. All in the middle of hoping that a miracle would happen. That our good God would intervene and stop cancer in it's tracts, with as little as a word. I know my version of the grief that my friend is feeling. I do not know hers, but oh, I weep with her. I weep knowing that the days and weeks and months ahead will be filled with shock and numbness and sadness to the core and trying to wrap her mind around his beloved daughter not being present anymore, ever. I weep for my friend. 

And I am so tired of it. But so awake to it at the same time. Not closed off. Not shut down. Listening carefully. 

Why death? Why? Why can we not live forever? 

I have grieved these past two years: my grandmother, who was my best and dearest friend as a child and young adult. My grandfather, who was her love for five and a half decades. My other grandmother, who we lost 15 years prior to the mental death of alzheimer's disease. A very young child in my womb to early miscarriage. And my most precious friend, my first and only love, my husband with whom I was supposed to grow old alongside. 

Why death? Why? My grandparents deaths were bitter, but so expected since I was a child, that their passing was sweet with memories and thankfulness for long lives lived well. My miscarriage was bitter, although I know how common it is, and the process of growing through it with my Trevor made it even sweet. Trevor's death? So unexpected. So - what is the word - shocking. I wish I could describe what he was to me. I won't say he was everything, because life goes on, and I still have our babies, our siblings, our parents even. But to my heart - he was inside of me. He was the one I gave my whole heart and whole being to. We were one. 

Why death? Why? Why are some lives like a drop in the bucket, snuffed out before their dreams are realized? Why did my friend's daughter die and leave young children behind? Why did my Caleb, my three year old have to talk about missing daddy tonight and how he hopes he gets to see him in his dreams? That does not seem right. It does not seem right that we only have memories of those we love the most. And that all will die. 

All will die. It is the way of life. But all will live forever on the other side. The story continues. It is not a page ripped out and snuffed out. 

So I sure as heck want to make mine count. I want to LOOOOOOVE so much that it would be considered crazy. I want to live. I want to know Jesus more than anyone ever before me on this planet. I want to show his goodness to all that look upon me. I want my children to know a mother who did not give up and close down, but who fiercely saw beauty wherever it could be found. And I want to fully live, and yet, I cannot wait (I will wait) to run into the arms of my lover Jesus, and see the sweet eyes of my love Trevor on the other side. (Great cloud of witnesses, ya'll.)

Why the heck do I care about instagram followers or opinions? I want to live a real life while I am here on this beautiful, strange, broken earth. Make it a little more like heaven, until I meet my love there.