I read a book about grief, once. I think someone sent it to me after my mom died. In the book, they talked about anniversaries, as in birthdays, or the day the person died. It said, most often, the time leading up to the anniversary is much harder than the day, itself. I have not found this to be true. Every June 17th, I wake up at 3:45 am, the time recorded on my youngest daughters death certificate, and relive the day, in my mind.
I remember the long drive, that night, from Plainview to Sherman. I think I fell asleep, for just a minute. I had a dream where I saw something I can only describe as the enemy, reach into Lauren's throat and pull the life from her. I woke up, and looked at my watch. It was 3:45. We got to the hospital at 4:15. I haven't worn a watch since.
If I could just live in that time before. In those few minutes of, "Hello, how are you?" to Lauren's friends. Before meeting the doctor. Before he said those terrible words.
It's raining this morning. The weatherman said it was flooding down in Austin. As I recall, Austin was flooding on that sad morning. So much so, we couldn't reach Eric, to tell him his baby sister was gone. Jon said it was okay to let him have a little more time, before knowing. Sarah, who had been awake all night, seemed to already know. Sisters are like that.
We drove home, without rest, without our girl.
A man we didn't know, who, also didn't know about Lauren, told us God had given him a vision. He saw a man praying, with tears rolling down his face. Then, he saw Jesus, holding hands, and walking with a little girl in a pink dress with a sash. I knew it was Lauren. I knew before the enemy tried to take her life, she had given it to Jesus.
Before long, we will all be together again.
I remember the long drive, that night, from Plainview to Sherman. I think I fell asleep, for just a minute. I had a dream where I saw something I can only describe as the enemy, reach into Lauren's throat and pull the life from her. I woke up, and looked at my watch. It was 3:45. We got to the hospital at 4:15. I haven't worn a watch since.
If I could just live in that time before. In those few minutes of, "Hello, how are you?" to Lauren's friends. Before meeting the doctor. Before he said those terrible words.
It's raining this morning. The weatherman said it was flooding down in Austin. As I recall, Austin was flooding on that sad morning. So much so, we couldn't reach Eric, to tell him his baby sister was gone. Jon said it was okay to let him have a little more time, before knowing. Sarah, who had been awake all night, seemed to already know. Sisters are like that.
We drove home, without rest, without our girl.
A man we didn't know, who, also didn't know about Lauren, told us God had given him a vision. He saw a man praying, with tears rolling down his face. Then, he saw Jesus, holding hands, and walking with a little girl in a pink dress with a sash. I knew it was Lauren. I knew before the enemy tried to take her life, she had given it to Jesus.
Before long, we will all be together again.
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