Monday, May 8, 2017

Going to the grave in my PJs

I've been having some rough days. 

Saturday was particularly bad. I went to his grave that morning in my pajamas with my dogs. I just wanted to be there. I know he's not there, really, but sometimes I just have to go and stay for a while. 

I cried and cried, and again, for the millionth time I asked why, and just cried out to Jesus for some comfort. 

I poured my water out on the granite and wiped the dirt off, cleaned the pennies and the pebbles, and cleaned off his marker and picture. I want so badly to be able to do all the things I used to do for him, and I can't anymore. 

Sometimes I just have to crumble so I can stand up again. While I was sitting there on the ground in tears, I heard a cardinal's chirp. I know their chirp now, just like I know my child's voice. I looked up, and a cardinal flew from the woods to my left, all the way across the sky in front of me, and landed on a tree nearby. 

I sat there questioning that really a sign I can draw comfort from? I see them all the time. One often sits under my bedroom window and chirps. Carly and I point them out and smile every time we see one. 

But I've been questioning if they are really signs of angels being near, or signs from loved ones, or signs from God, or are they just pretty red birds?

Does it really matter...

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