So, I haven't yet decided what to call this post. I guess that after I see what flies off of my fingertips, I will come up with a catchy heading to get people reading this story again. We shall see.
From 2006 to 2008, life goes on as before Danny's death. We still speak to A monthly or so, and we keep in touch with our parents, Dave and I. We relish life. We have learned that every little moment in time is precious ... so very precious ... that we don't want to waste a single one. We spend as much time as we can involved in church activities for it is there that we are beginning to truly heal. Our hearts are beginning to feel a bit less empty and a bit more understood. C is back in school and is going to classes from 8am until noon, then coming home and homeschooling from 1pm until roughly 5pm. We found ourselves doing a lot more family things with a lot more families. Neither Dave nor I enjoyed being at home alone much, even with Crissy, so we didn't spend much time there. When we didn't have guests, we weren't there.
We learned to enjoy showing tourists the places in La Paz that we loved. Our favorite restaurants, our favorite beach spots and the local hang outs that only local folks knew about. The best places for tapas, the best bar in town for a Corona or two, and the best place to hear live Mexican mariachi bands.
I began working on a scrapbook of Danny's life sometime within this second year, I don't recall the exact date, but I only got about a layout (or 2 pages) done every month or two. It simply never made it past 6 pages and, even now, I can't finish it. I find that whenever I open the box with all of my "Danny moments" in it, I am hit with a wave of nostalgia that threatens to drown me. I cannot allow that and so I close the lid. I cry ... just a little. How do you write a life story with pictures that only show so much of who a person was? How do you show the different facets to the diamond that was that young man, my Danny? I do not know, nor even pretend to, so at some future date, I may finish the scrapbook. Then again, I may not.
I frequently pray that my family will forgive me for withdrawing after Danny's death. For becoming so introverted that I felt no one could ever understand my pain. I simply have never loved anyone so much in my life ... and I fear that I never will again. I wonder sometimes if that makes me less *human* than I once was. To not really want to feel the closeness just in order to feel the ripping away that will surely, at some time, come. I am afraid.
Life is fragile, but love is more fragile still. We all do the best we can but I would challenge us all to do one better. Do not be afraid to talk about how you feel. Do not be afraid that people will make fun of your emotions, they may .... but it really doesn't matter. Your life must be lived by you FOR GOD. He is the only one who really, truly matters.
I have come to understand that part of my purpose in this life to help others find the Jesus that I have found. The One who loves me no matter what. The God who doesn't get mad at me when I yell at Him, but who understands every single thing I have gone through. You see, He lost a Son also. Not at 18, but at 33. Not because He was taken because of His basic sin nature, but because He was taken because of MY basic sin nature.
I am finally finding my footing and being comfortable with who I am. I may laugh a little louder than I need to, cry a lot more easily than I should and find solace in things that no one else would understand. But I am ok with that.
I pray that you find that comfortableness too and are able to live with it as well.
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