I think back over the people who I've known who have died. Not just known but loved. Some of them were dying already, yet it still caught us by surprise. But then, most of them, were completely unexpected. And that hurts the most.
It scares me. It makes me want to huddle myself up in the corner, underneath a warm blanket. It makes me want to stay in my pajamas all day. It makes me want to hug everyone I know. It makes me want to gather everyone I know in one room and make them promise they'll never ever leave that room. Not even to go to the bathroom.
It makes me want to party. To eat A LOT of foods that I try to avoid, but catch myself eating anyway. It makes me want to eat piles of chocolate covered french fries and drink thick dark beers and lick tubs of frosting. It makes me want to go on vacations, but only surrounded by people I love, and do everything with them that I've always wanted to do someday with myself, and hope and hope that they enjoy it as much as I always have in my head.
It makes me never want to move away. It makes me want to stay right here, living with my sister, with my parents near by, until the day I die too.
It makes me want to both stop living and live completely. It makes me want to do everything and do nothing, to be still and run around experiencing every drop of life I can manage to get my hands on.
It scares me, the thought of how fragile this life is. The thought of how temporary it can all be. But then it also reminds me of how important every single step is.
It makes me never want to complain again. Ever. It makes me not want to worry or sigh or roll my eyes. It makes me want to laugh and stare and say whatever pops into my head. It makes me want to apologize more and apologize less. It makes me want to change it all and not do anything different at all.
I think about how I feel when people I love die. I get a chocking feeling in my throat and I feel like I'll never be able to eat again. It cripples my insides. It distances me from everyone around, while also pulling me so much closer.
But then, I think about the day that I'm going to die and while I get that same sort of choking feeling, I also get a feeling of...peace.
I think about that first face I'm going to see. Of me running down a hallway and meeting at the other end, face to face with Jesus. I think about hugging him and telling him, "See I KNEW you were real." And us laughing and him saying, "Yeah I knew I was too." I think about God telling me about the day he thought me up. And then me feeling the fullness of his love and finally feeling complete. Knowing for the first time in my life that I am actually whole and I no longer have to feel discontent or frustration or anxiety or restlessness again.
I don't just think about the complete elation and the no more pain parts. All of that is amazing. But I also think about the looking into the eyes of my Savior part and the finally understanding the Trinity part and the hugging the One who loves me more than anyone ever could part. I think about the no longer wondering, the deep satisfaction of no longer searching, and that feeling deep down of longing and missing finally being fulfilled.
So I'm wrestling with that tonight. The tension between wanting to live life to the fullest and wanting to just stay put. Between wanting to hold on so tightly and wanting to allow myself to let go. Wanting to not limit myself but also not wanting to waste a single moment.
Praying for her family.
Love.
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