Twenty-One

At what point will I only count the months, and stop counting the weeks?  I haven't even really stopped counting the days yet.  One hundred forty seven days to be exact.  Twenty-one weeks.  Tuesday will mark five months.  Five painfully, dark months.

Every day I miss my Mama more and more.  So often throughout the day something reminds me of her.  Sometimes I laugh, but even in the laughter often the tears easily flow.  The past several days have been super hard.  Every day is hard, but some days are seemingly unbearable.  The past several have been just that.

This past Friday afternoon we went to buy Hannah's Homecoming dress.  A dress my Mama wanted to buy this year.  We still tried to make it extra special for her.  My mother-in-law and sister-in-laws went with us.  But there was still a huge whole.  As Hannah tried on dresses, I kept thinking this should be happening with my Mama.  She should be here.  Instead of saying, "Hannah you look beautiful in that dress", she would say, "Hannah you make that dress look beautiful".  And then Hannah would giggle and say, "Mama Gaile, you're embarrassing me."

But she wasn't there.  She will never be here again.  It makes me want to crawl in the bed and not get up.

Our routine trip by the cemetery after church on Sunday was more than I could handle.  As we drove up I immediately spotted to men.  They had a vault loaded on a lift ready to set it over a freshly dug hole in the ground.  As I walked past it, I got a sick feeling in my stomach.  Once I got to my Mama's grave and read her name on the headstone, I broke out in a cold sweat and started hyperventilating.  I couldn't get gone fast enough.

Selfishly I want her here.  Six hours from now I want my phone to ring for my daily phone call.  I have so much I want to tell her.  I feel like there was so much left unsaid.

Twenty-one weeks feels like forever when your heart is bleeding.  By the grace of God I'm still breathing.  I haven't crawled in the bed to never get up again.  I'm still putting one foot in front of the other.

Only by the grace of God is it possible.

And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9