I've written about this awkward balancing act with sorrow and joy before, but it is on my mind again.
Yesterday was my husband's and my thirty-third wedding anniversary, which is a joyful accomplishment and testament to God's grace. We've walked through some hard years and are grateful for the healing God has done in our marriage. I savor the sweetness we have.
Yesterday also marks the last time I ever talked to our son Michael.
Three years ago, on our thirtieth anniversary, Michael called. I had a lovely visit with him. We talked for about forty minutes about all kinds of things. I loved hearing his enthusiasm over dreams and ideas, trips he wanted to take, new career possibilities and a cookbook he wanted to write.
One week later, we got the devastating news that he had taken his life.
I miss him so badly.
I am so glad for that final conversation with our beloved son.
Also...that precious memory now casts a shadow over my joy on our wedding anniversary.
In the three years since our hearts were shattered at the news of Michael's death, one of the big things we've learned is the carrying of both sorrow and joy. Neither cancels out the other.
Sorrow cannot kill joy.
Joy does not magically "solve" sorrow.
Instead, we learned to hold both at the same time.
The most joyous event on our family's horizon this year is the wedding of our youngest child. Her engagement was the big bright spot in the surreal mess that was 2020. Her fiance is a wonderful young man and they suit each other well. Their wedding will be a day of true joy.
Also...her brother Michael should be here.
He should be there to stand in the line of groomsmen, along with our other son. Our older daughter is Maid of Honor. All of our children will be up there, except for Michael.
He should be there with his big laugh and love of celebrating.
He should be here today, as we move our daughter into the home she'll soon share with her new husband. Michael was great about showing up for moving days, and his strength was a huge help.
I am excited to help with the moving-in today. This is a fun and happy occasion.
I am thrilled to celebrate our daughter's wedding next month. That will be a truly joyous day.
At the same time, I carry sorrow.
Michael should be here.
