Today I'm remembering Myron. One year ago we got a phone call that let us know the world as we knew it had shattered. It had shattered for four children and a beautiful wife. And it shattered for us too.
I've thought about how to spend today. I signed off of Facebook, deciding that there was no way I wanted to face such petty banality on a day like today. I signed off saying I was going to be sitting in the quiet remembering our friend. I wanted to say that I was going to sit in the sadness, but stopped myself feeling like I shouldn't be sitting in the sadness. But that is what it really is. Yes, a year has gone by. A whole big year. But I am still sad. I have laughed and I have continued to live. But sadness still lies behind my eyes and resides in my heart. So yes, I am sitting in the sadness today. And that is okay.
I've wanted to find a way to remember our friend, to honor him in some way. If I accomplish anything, the one thing I want to say at the end of today is that I was kind to my husband. Too often I take him for granted and treat him without kindness. Losing Myron and watching his beautiful wife walk through life on her own has taught me that there are no guarantees how long we will have with the one we love most in this world. And so today I'll remember to treat the one I love most in this world with kindness. At least I hope so.
Today I will remember the good times. I'll remember the talks and the laughter, the prayer times and the sweet times with Myron leading us with his guitar. I'll remember how tight our home group once was, and I'll be thankful for the way they were home for me during the darkest days of my childbirth injury. I'll remember the goofy newlywed game we played at our last home group meeting before the Christmas break, and how we laughed until we cried at the antics dreamt up by Myron and my husband. I'll remember the songs Myron wrote and shared with our group. I'll remember the Larry Norman references. I'll remember the way he held his youngest kids and the pride he had in his eyes as he talked about his eldest child's softball prowess. I'll be thankful for the dream God sent some weeks after Myron died to help me process the domino effect of losses that came afterward. I'll be thankful for the season we had as a group, for the friendships I had in that time, and the way it impacted my life. I had once assumed we'd be together for forever. I know differently now.
Today will not be a day when I focus on the hurt from the losses that came afterward. I've spent a year focusing on those losses and got lost myself in the process. Today I will try not to remember those hurts, at least not with bitterness. It's only been in the past couple of days that I've even begun to accept that those losses really and truly did happen and that they aren't anything I can change or fix. Today is not the day for me to think about stuff like that.
Today is the day I remember Myron. And today is the day I ask Jesus to hold up Myron's family as they sit in their sadness.