Surviving My Past Because of My Future

  “ You don’t know what you have until it’s gone ” doesn’t have to be true. Does it seem odd to anyone else that we wait until a person dies to notice what made them loved and appreciated? The phrase “ better late than never ” certainly doesn’t apply in this situation. When it’s impossible to maintain a physical, reciprocal relationship with an individual, our hearts naturally zoom in on everything we loved about them but will never get to experience with them again. The rest doesn’t seem to matter anymore. It can even appear as though the person who died lived a “saintly life.”  As Dalton’s family, we’re guilty of this ourselves.  And anyone who knew Dalton knows he was far from a saint (but neither are we).  But without him here, there is zero purpose in focusing on the parts of him that sometimes drove us crazy. The reality is, we would give anything to have ALL of Dalton back, the lovely and the not-so-lovely. His not-so-lovely doesn’t look not-so-lovely anymore. The love for him

  When my kids were little, part of my job as their mom was to comfort them when they were hurting.  Sometimes this was after a physical injury such as a bike accident or a sports injury on the basketball court or football field.  Other times, one of them needed emotional support resulting from a disagreement with a friend or some other disappointing loss.  Because they were two unique human beings with distinct personalities , the approach I took to ease their pain was also poles apart.   I’m reluctant to admit that I’ve found myself resistant to some of the words I‘ve read or heard from other well-meaning people also walking through grief as I search for comfort.  What was helpful for them often leaves me empty,  yet full of guilt.  Why do I push away their thoughts?  They’re just trying to help me. Am I self-selecting only what I want to believe?  Is my faith weak, leaving me in doubt of God’s promises? Am I just a difficult, bitter person who is always on the defense now that I’ve