I remember you like yesterdays...

"Yesterdays"
by Switchfoot

Flowers cut and brought inside
Black cars in a single line
Your family in suits and ties
And you're free

The ache I feel inside
Is where the life has left your eyes
I'm alone for our last goodbye
But you're free

I remember you like yesterday, yesterday
I still can't believe you're gone, oh...
I remember you like yesterday, yesterday
And until I'm with you, I'll carry on

Adrift on your ocean floor
I feel weightless, numb, and sore
A part of you in me is torn
And you're free

I woke from a dream last night
I dreamt that you were by my side
Reminding me I still had life
In me

I'll carry on

Every lament is a love song
Yesterday, yesterday
I still can't believe you're gone
So long my friend, so long

It's been five years since we said an unwilling goodbye to our ten-year-old, Caleb. Of course, we set this day aside to reflect, more than we do in just our daily routine because, honestly, there's still not one single day that goes by that I don't think about him.

After five years, the grieving process gets a little different. I guess the grieving and remembering are more concentrated on days like today, his birthday and Mother's/Father's Day. There are still those random things, though that creep up and kind of nab you when you're not expecting it. Sometimes having to "go there" trashes the rest of my day and sometimes I stumble a bit, get my footing and go on. I suppose it will always be like that.

I don't want it to seem like it's a big inconvenience that I have this in my life, messing up otherwise ideal or perfect days. On the other hand, though, I don't like it. I'll never like the fact that I set the table for five instead of six. I'll never get used to the fact that I should have two boys in high school now instead of one. I hate that my nine-year-old has very fuzzy memories of the brother he lost when he was only four. There's nothing about losing my son that is fair or that I like.

But when I stop and breathe in and stop banging my fists, there is this standstill peace that God is still in control. I have no choice but to trust Him until we're done here on this side of eternity and I can see my son again and thank my God for not giving me more than I could handle without His strength (though it didn't always feel like it) and I suppose maybe I'll know why. But I might not.

So today, I blog as a huge part of my process, and we Stevens will cling as we remember and continue to process our loss and heaven's gain.

Do me a favor though? Just love on those kids of yours. Not out of fear of what you could lose. but just because God put them there.