It is almost two years since Scott’s death. When I stop moving and am still, those raw emotions, feelings, and physical reactions surrounding Scott’s death come flooding back in. How do those without a hope and strength in Jesus Christ survive and “get through” a loss like this? Some days, even two years later, it is only by God’s strength that I can function and move forward.
There are still many more moments when this all feels surreal rather than real. Is there a moment in time when it will move toward feeling real? It is no longer my first thought – “Oh, I need to tell Scott about this.” Now it is, “Oh, I wish I could tell Scott about this.” Or, “I wish I knew what Scott would think about this.” It all feels so unfair.
In two weeks it will be the second anniversary of Scott’s death. In facing that, I am coming to realize that the dreaded “firsts” are not necessarily the hardest. The “seconds” reinforce that this is reality and not just a horrible dream.
Just a few weeks ago I realized that I have been arranging my pillows each night to take the empty place where Scott used to be so that I still fall asleep each night as if I was cuddled up to his side, with my head on his chest and my arms around him. I had been sleeping like this for months before it hit me what I was doing – then I cried.
There is a gigantic Scott-shaped void in our lives. It has started to scab over, but every so often something happens or a thought hits that rips the scab off without warning, leaving it raw again.