The year of seconds.

This is the year of seconds. The second Easter without Jacob. The second summer without Jacob. The second birthday without Jacob. The second Thanksgiving and Christmas without Jacob. I have always told people the second year is the hardest. The first year you are numb. The second year you realize it is for real, forever. They are not coming back. They are not just away. The cold harsh reality sets in. While everyone else has gone back to life you sit in the midst of living every day with the world still spinning and people still living their lives while your world has spun totally out of control. The sad fact is most people go on with an occasional thought of Jacob, but we the family have a giant elephant still sitting in our living room. Not sure he will ever go away. No matter if it is just Bart and I sitting here watching tv or the whole family gathered over the elephant is always there lurking, waiting to see if we will mention him. If we will ignore him or break down. The tension of waiting to see if he gets mentioned if anyone notices the tears forming in your eyes for no reason never ends. Everyday is a challenge. Getting out of bed is a momentous task. Before my eyes open I am praying for strength to go on another day. Strength to put on a smile and act like my life is fine. Yes, I look fine on the outside but the inside is melting. Falling away. I am afraid to feel. Afraid to touch the hurt for fear of falling very far away. I can not give into the pain or I am afraid I will cease to exist because it is so overwhelming. I know you think I should be over it by now. I should not be so consumed. I know I should choose joy everyday. But I want you to know it is a challenge everyday to breathe, walk, love and laugh. But I do it for my family. I do it through the strength of God. My every morning prayer. I do it through the strength of prayer interceded by you. Yes, it is so important for you to lift those people up everyday even if it has been months, years. A parent's pain never ends. That child was born a part of you and will continue to be a part of you no matter what. But I digress. The holidays. I am saddened at holidays because they continue on in spite of my pain. I know the world does not revolve around me but I look around the room at gatherings and since the big elephant is sitting there wondering if it will be mentioned. Everyone is afraid to mention it for fear the tears will start. We want a normal holiday. At first I think they don't remember. I go off into another room when the tears overflow from my eyes. I come back with reddened eyes and notice others eyes avoiding mine. I feel like the perpetual downer. I want to scream how can you be happy and eat when I want to vomit in my plate because I can't breathe. But then I look across the room and see my husband's eyes. They connect and we speak a thousand words in that look. He knows my pain. He is telling me to breathe. He is saying I miss him too. He is saying you can do this. Together we will be strong. I go on breathing. I look over and see my nephew, the sadness in his eyes. He is missing his best friend and cousin. Born 6 weeks apart, related by blood but friends by choice. He grieves so hard for his Jacob. I know looking at him what it cost him to come to my house. The pain of walking through the door and knowing Jacob will not be here. He sees the giant elephant but he came anyway. He is my hero. I look in his eyes and I know he knows. I know we see each other's pain. I know together we can do this. My heart breaks for him because I know for him that pain is always there too. I wish I could fix it but he too has to walk through it to get to the other side. But I seek solace in knowing I am not alone. I catch a glimpse of others staring off and I wonder are they too thinking about the enormous elephant which gets bigger with each passing moment? I look up and see my son staring at me. The compassion and hurt in his eyes. He too speaks so clearly with his eyes. Are you ok? What can I do? You can do this. Be strong. Then I look around the room and see through all the laughter and presents the eyes of all are clouded. There tooare volumes behind their eyes being spoken. We are here. We are in the same room feeling the same thing. The sadness. The brokenness. We grieve. We hurt but we must go on. We go on because we are family. Because we believe in each other and God. The room screams we all miss Jacob. But we must go on. So silently through the eyes of loved ones we speak about the elephant. We hug, silent tears slip through. We love on each other because we know what we have is so precious. The elephant got a little smaller. It is still there but smaller. I still wonder how people get up each day and go about their business when my world quit spinning Feb 20, 2010. Slowly, I know my world will come to focus again. But not yet. I am not done grieving and never will completely "be there". But I do have hope because I have God, family and friends. Somehow we will get through this season and move on to the year of thirds. But until then keep praying for us. Keep praying for all those other families that have an elephant in their living room. Know that whether it has been one year or fifteen years the pain is still as vivid as the first. Speak volumes with your eyes if you can't with your words. Let them know that you haven't forgotten. Look at your own elephants in the room. Is there resentment, a grudge, or grief in the room? We are not guaranteed another Christmas. We are not guaranteed another day. We have today to make an impact on someone, heal a wound, tell someone what they mean. Live with no regrets. I pray each one of you has a very Merry Christmas but even more importantly I pray that through all the gifts and festivities you realize that if Jesus had not come, died on the cross and resurrected on the third day we would have no hope. This would be it. But because of that tiny baby in the manager we have hope for tomorrow. Our God is great and mighty.