It happened six days ago. I got a notification for a memory from one year ago. It was this video. This is it. This is the last video I have of Jane.
Several people have checked in to see how we are doing, especially today, the 24th. This has mostly been my response:
“We’re ok. It’s a difficult day but it’s also not necessarily more difficult than any other day. It’s harder realizing that we only have a month left and then time will affectively be measured in years. Memories becoming longer ago will always feel hard and heartbreaking.”
I appreciate it when people ask. I appreciate it when people remember. I am so thankful to know many are still praying. I also know it’s easy to scroll past this post and feel a moment of pity before moving on with your life. That’s ok. It’s our grief and burden to bear. Jane was loved by many and is missed by some. Others have grieved her loss, but no one else walks past her bedroom door 11 months later and weeps at what is no more. We want to suffer well. Part of suffering well is acknowledging the suffering, the grief in the big moments and the little things.
Last night Robert started getting things together for our taxes. As suddenly as my phone alerted me to the last video of Jane, TurboTax needed a number of dependents. Having to check the box that one of your dependents is deceased is another gut wrenching blow. The computer software politely offered its condolences and we reeled from another little thing that reminds us our daughter isn’t here.
It’s hard in these moments to not feel isolated from the world around us. It’s difficult to feel misunderstood. It’s hard to hear petty complaining or worse, see apathy over things that actually matter. It’s also in these moments when Jesus is so near. When very few people really grasp the magnitude of the little things, what a gift to know that God knows our grief intimately. He keeps track of all my sorrows. He has collected all my tears in His bottle and recorded each one in His book.
Maybe the little things are painful reminders of large wounds and grief. Maybe the little things aren’t so little at all. I don’t always know what little things will be the tipping point, but Jesus does and he is near.