Eleven months... It really doesn't matter how you break down the time. It's irrelevant anyways. It doesn't matter how long a loved one has been gone, they are still "gone." I'm no stranger to grief. I know how it works. On some level, grief has been my constant companion since October 26, 1996 - the day Jimmy died.
Since that day, the onslaught of loss has been relentless. Slowly. One after the other. Gone. Since 1996... The loss of both parents, both siblings, three grandparents, two aunts, three uncles, and two cousins.
It's almost numbing... almost. I've planned funerals, gone to funerals, even blocked out a few funerals. I've laughed over these people, cried over these people, and released these people.
There is not one loved one I've lost that I would ask to come back. I miss them desperately.
I'm thankful for a God who saves. I'm thankful that I will see them again; hear them again; talk to them again; walk with them again. I'm thankful that I do not grieve as those who have no hope.
1 Thessalonians 4:13
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.
