Embers

I open my front door, look down, and there they are, her sneakers, her converse ...remember the blue ones, well worn.  I'll leave them there.  At first I left them right outside the door, on the porch because that's where she last left them, where she usually did.  I had a tiny hope that she would come back, pick them up, lift one foot in ...and our footsteps would find a united stride once again.  I've looked in doorways, out windows, scanned the ocean and sand.  She's never there.  I called to her, asked her to come, let me know she's safe ...and she doesn't answer, at least in a way I can see and hear.  Phoebe is gone.  I've always known that.  I haven't been delusional, just wishful in the sense I believe God can do anything, even rewrite history, turn back the clock ...rewind.  I've searched high and low, begged and pleaded with God, and I have had glimpses for sure, especially last Christmas, as I approached the manger.  It was a powerful and poignant time.  He blessed me, I know.  But that assurance is fleeting ...and its been dry for a long time now.
Time marches on and the reality begins to seep in, take hold, maybe in the same way a search party is called off.  There is simply nothing left to do.  That morning nearly a year ago cannot be rescripted.  The acute pain is mostly gone and returns only for minutes at a time, but the chronic pain has set in, settled in my bones and let me know it is time to learn to live with it.  And so we begin the life without Phoebe we never wanted.  Acute pain is harsh and raw ...your only options are to die (which you easily could) or fight to survive.  Chronic pain is unrelenting and wider, yet not quite the dagger in the heart being twisted.  Chronic pain is your mate, and with this new mate, we must learn to live and accomplish the business of life. 
I've got lots of reasons to absorb the chronic pain ...six other kids, a husband, friends ...all bringing plenty of joy along with the natural frustrations of life.  So, I know I'll live my life ...no fear of dying from this anymore.  The tears of excruciating pain, of agony are less.  Now, its like bleeding tears, best I can explain it.  They just fall.
I asked for a few things right from the start: let me survive a year, protect my kids and help them live their lives as best they can, keep my marriage and family intact and preserve my faith.  If you've been through something like this you know those are pretty demanding requests ...but He's blessed me with all of them, though their is no claim to perfection here, especially my own.  It's all His grace. 
October 9th will come ...and go.  The days leading up to it are already far, far heavier than I'd imagined.  Each day now I look back and remember.  I can't recall each day specifically, but I have a general idea of what would have been happening.  Still, there are moments of such clarity that replay in my mind that bring me back to those last days with her.  Each day, I can say "a year ago ..."  But come Oct. 10, there will be no "a year ago..." with Phoebe.  I'll walk through those days remembering the extraordinary pain, heading to Bar Harbor, the house being in total chaos, choosing her coffin.  I'll remember my first call to Meg and then Cathy.  I'll remember looking at my phone "is it true?" from Kelly.  I texted back "yes," and I envisioned my oldest friend, Phoebe's biggest fan crumble.  I'll remember all of it, and walk through it again.  The phone calls, the disbelief, the searching for answers.  Not Phoebe ...of all people not her.  Yet, it was her.  I'll remember the look on my children's faces, the sirens, the flashing lights, my son being picked up at work and brought home.  I'll remember the first phone call from my next oldest daughter, the crying and screaming.  I'll remember the ride home from the soccer field, the screaming prayers and begging God not to abandon us.  I'll remember seeing her and holding her, telling her how much I love her. I'll remember looking up at my husband and someone grabbing my shoulder pulling me away.  I'll remember the pretty, young police officer, the look on her face, the horror.  Hadn't she just been to our house after a neighbor called to report us for harassing them.  They were having leaves blown out of their woods for about seven days straight from7AM - 7PM.  We couldn't bear the leaf blower anymore, it was constant, so my husband asked their landscapers if they could use a rake.  The owner called the police and she came to our house, rolled her eyes as she told us they had a right to remove all the leaves from their woods even if it made no sense and disturbed everyone around them.  I had started to say something when Phoebe had tugged my arm and shushed me.  And then asked "did that lady really call the police?"  She giggled.  That police officer got to hear Phoebe laugh about a week before she saw her dead.  Those neighbors never said a word to us about our daughter.
I'll remember every moment and live through it again.  These will not be easy days, but they're not meant to be.  My husband and I will go over and over our life with her.  We'll remember how she pushed us to live every second of our lives ...even if it hurt.  I'm not exaggerating when I say there was no one like her.  She was a gem of extraordinary value.  She was noticeable.  She left an impression wherever she went, whatever she did.  She was mine to borrow for seventeen years ...and how I wish I had savored more of each moment with her. 
Living my faith is hard, hard work.  There are no heavenly arms wrapping me in comfort.  I don't feel His great love showering down on me ...there are no emotional gifts here.  Yet, I trust Him through and through.  I like God less ...but I trust Him more.  I love God ...He is the center of my life, but I don't like His ways for the people I know who live each moment of their lives for Him.  It almost seems that he steps away, leaves.  Tiny embers burn letting me know He is still here, silent, but still present ...and doing what with this pathetic, imperfect mother ...I have no idea. 
I pray one day He reunites me with Phoebe and that one day our family will be together again.  I'm counting on that ....praying for that, and in the meantime ...I'll remember.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace. Amen.