She’s 17 now too.
The next to the youngest.
It’s taken me so long to write this post.
A month actually.
The words would get caught, and not flow.
The reality so harsh.
She’s 17 now.
The next to the youngest.
That beautiful dancer girl.
My Christmas Angel.
She’s 17.
The same age her brother was when Jesus called him home.
It’s an interesting thing to live longer than your older brother.
Especially when 17 is the goal.
And with the age comes all the same end of High School activites and events we had just lived through with her brother.
And I marvel at how time has flown.
I wonder at the beauty and grace shown to us through these years.
They’re not easy.
Each day a reminder of what we have lost.
The fog of death and cancer has taken long to clear.
The memory of those times dim and hard to retrieve.
I walk by his room; his youngest sister has now taken that over.
I still need to count how many plates before setting the table.
Though, that may be more from the crazy amount of people that come and go here.
Still, his place at the table remains.
And it’s a reminder.
So on Christmas Eve, she turned 17.
She’s 17 now, too.
Two other children have graduated and moved on.
This thing called life keeps happening.
And I can’t slow time.
I want to reach back and touch those years that held our son.
Yet, the beat of time pushes forward.
I don’t want to miss a moment of what’s here.
So, we push back the layers of ache and missing until we can see crystal clear what is right in front of us.
And that Christmas Bundle of joy turned 17.
Her laughing blue eyes, like her dad, capture the deepest part of my soul.
She commands a room so much like her older brother.
She makes us laugh.
She makes herself laugh!
Her heart is large like her dads.
Her work ethic strong and deep.
The course of her life is unfolding before us.
Page by page.
Word by word.
