hold onto hope.

If ever I could write it all down, if ever I could do justice to your memory - I would. If ever I could write you a song as beautiful as your legacy, all the love you left behind - I would. If ever I could relive just one moment with you and record every detail - I would. And then, I would send it upwards, into the sky, past the clouds, to the kingdom of God, your now forever home. I would bring it as an offering, a token of how much I still miss you - how much I will always miss you. I would give it just to let you know you will never be forgotten. If I could rightly record how much you meant to me, how much you still mean to me - I would. If I could go back to your kitchen and hear your voice - I would. If I could feel your embrace, just for another second - I would. All the things you take for granted... when they're gone you see them slipping away as time passes by. Sometimes I convince myself I can still hear how you sounded, but I'm afraid instead that it's how I envision you sound, only my mind trying to replicate that natural sweetness, and failing more and more each day. If I could stop you from fading - I would.

I close my eyes and try and see you again; you vibrant in life, full of joy, and composed of laughter. I see you sitting there across the table, smiling as we win yet another hand of cards. I see you, as I am a child, sitting on the edge of my bed, singing me to sleep. I see you at my soccer games. At my track meets. At my choir concerts. Always a familiar face in the crowd, always supportive. I see you in the kitchen, making christmas cookies with me, year after year - frosting on our faces, flour on our clothes, laughter in our eyes. I see you at Thanksgiving and Christmas and every birthday. I see you on endless car rides across the state. I see you, at family gatherings, church services, and walks in the park. I see you everywhere. I see you as vividly as if you're still here, and then I see you disappear...

I see you like a dream, and then I wake up and realize that you're gone. My mom tells me that in your final hours, God was there. In the midst of the worship music playing, Jesus enveloped your body, took over the room, and there - He took you into His family. She tells me it was beautiful. That even though it wasn't until a little later that your physical body quit, she believes in that moment of calm you went to be with the Lord. And, I believe her. I have to believe her. I need to believe that in your last moments you were enveloped with the presence of God. And then, in a moment of peace and perfect serenity you transcended from this world and into the next, you went to be with Jesus. You left behind all the pain and all the suffering, and God embraced you into His arms. He held you. He smiled. He called you His child. The waiting was over. You would never be separated from Him again. You left this world and became a part of the Kingdom of God.

When the pain of your loss overwhelms me, when the tears suffocate me, when I find it hard to breathe without you, that is what I hold onto. That moment of peace. That moment of hope. The promise that one day I will see you again. And, in my hour of darkness, you are standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom... let it be.