healing happens...

I realized this morning, as many people in America remember loved ones stolen away in a horrific act of violence, that the third anniversary of Doc's death had quietly passed me by. I still light candles every day, and there isn't an hour that goes by where I don't think of him, miss him, wish he were here... but here and there, bits and pieces of life slip back into normal rhythms. It doesn't hurt as much to laugh... I can smile sometimes without an oversheen of sadness... I can think of him, now and then, without the stabbing agony of loss that so viciously marked the first few weeks without him.

Friends that care continue to bear me up. Loving kindness from strangers continues to amaze and touch me. And every day there is a new discovery of Doc's continued presence and influence in my and Zac's life, as we slowly learn how much he prepared for our care beyond his passing, and continues to care for us even now.

Perhaps healing isn't forgetting, or moving past. Perhaps healing is merely the final weaving in of loose threads, cut short and too soon, so that the ends no longer chafe, while the pattern is fixed forever.

Unlooked-for happiness found in little, simple things...

Z: Mom, you know the best part of my birthday??

Me: No, tell me, honey.

Z: Not only CAN B sing... he DOES!

(...so I'm looking forward to more family sing-alongs...)