Every Loss I See

Every death is your death. Every sorrow I come across takes me back. Even the TV moms portrayed as suffering loses of a child cause the wound from your death to ignite. I cry for their loss, their broken story. The actress who does a realistic job of conveying her woe gets more tears from me. I wipe my eyes and think: it never goes away, that ache, that sadness, that loss in losing you, Daniel.

In a recent movie I watched as one of the characters, an older woman, tried to console a young boy of twelve who had lost his baby sister. She said that the child was with Jesus and that Jesus is here. I thought: ah, that's a good way to think. Jesus is with us and he is also with Daniel in Heaven. Jesus bridges the gap between Daniel and me. He is with us both, even if Daniel and I can't be together. As I continued watching the movie, the sweet woman telling that boy to be bolstered by thinking of death in this way made me feel both grateful and sad at the same time.

I suppose that what surprises me most is that even after 24 years I still shed tears unexpectedly.

Every loss I see, every loss I hear, takes me to that place that never fades.

I miss you, Daniel.