I leave for Michigan in three days. During the seven days I’ll spend with my family we’ll say goodbye to my 31-year old stepbrother and celebrate my grandmother’s 87th.
I’m making cupcakes for both occasions. Carrot for Noah’s memorial. And lemon for my grandma’s birthday.
I have to admit it took me a long time to pick out the appropriate cupcake liners this morning. After basically swapping life stories with sweet Ben at Sur la Table, I selected these for Noah.
They seemed right somehow.
Then I did the thing I’ve been saying I’d do.
I went to the batting cages. By myself.
And I absolutely ripped about 60 softballs all over the Burbank Bat Cade. I can’t bring Noah back. I can’t ask for one more day so I’d have a chance to tell him I loved him. But I can keep swinging at life.
I can bake him cupcakes and hope he’s looking down from heaven smiling his big smile as he watches us eat them.
And maybe when I’m back? I’ll take up boxing…
‘cuz I’m gonna go one more round.
I have been absent for a month. I know. I know….
I have had some lovely adventures with people I adore. And I have so much happiness to share with you: About tailgates. And babies. And blue cheese potato salad.
I’m reeling. Again.
My stepbrother passed away on Sunday. And I’m bracing myself for another trip home with a black dress in my bag. The deaths in my mother’s family have been swift and vicious — and almost without warning.
There is beauty in loss. There is hope. There is a silver lining. And I will share all of that in time. I promise.
But right now?
I give you this.
The world is so much dimmer now without it.
As I struggle to find my footing, as I look for inspiration and humor, I find comfort in unlikely places. Like signs on sidewalks…
The author of Winnie the Pooh says things. Profound things.
And also in the obvious place I go when all else is lost (and even when it’s not)….
“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith – of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire – may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”
I’ve felt God’s presence in this grief, and he’s only starting to reveal himself… and his healing. More on that another time.
(I don’t mean to preach, by the way. We all have our ways of coping. I respect yours. This is mine.)