Capture

It's been ninety-five days.

Ninety-six sunrises and ninety-five sunsets since my Mama stepped into eternity with Jesus.

Ninety-two days have come and gone since we returned her body to the dust from which it once came.

Not a single day has passed where thoughts of her are absent.

At the beginning, so soon after her passing, the days were long. And a month in, the days seemed longer somehow. Weeks later, they also seemed darker.

But in the midst of those dark, long days: Grace.

God's perfect grace has carried me day after day, moment by moment. His perfect grace lead me to a place of wholeness again. A place of peace and surrender and deep knowing that this - this plan that included the loss of her life - was the better way. It was always the better way and there could have been no plan to compete. This way may have shrouded me in dark days, but this way lead her to eternal light.

A truth of life that none of us want to think about but know we will one day reckon with is the truth of loss. The truth that the physical beings we know to be our families and friends will one day become eternal. The truth that at some point, all we will have left are the remnants of the lives they built: Walls, doors, windows, and a roof. Pictures that speak a hundred words. Memories, both precious and bitter. Music that represents their essence. Movies they loved, books they read. Certain scents.

It may seem like a long list. But compared to having them here? Impossibly short.

Our lives go on after a loss. We feel the void their presence once filled, but life goes on.  Moments come and we wish they were here. Memories flood in that we wish could be changed. Others that we wish we could freeze and live in, just for a moment.

For me, a single photo by my bed serves as reminder of who my Mama was. It was taken on my sixteenth birthday and still sits in the original frame it was placed in ten years ago. The photo was snapped in our front yard. We both smile, the mother and daughter who share such similar features. The mother and daughter who started out the inseparable pair only to one day become strangers; the daughter filled with bitterness. The mother who loved in spite of the daughter's anger-masked-anxiety, who loved with no conditions. The mother-daughter duo who eventually landed in new territory: a place of few words but great forgiveness and surrender. A place trembling with God's redemption. A place where life came full circle: the daughter who was once dressed by the mother now did the dressing.

We look at this picture, Camden and I. Each morning she points to it, excited to hold it in her chubby little hands. She traces her fingers over the three-dimensional roses, taps on my face and then her Mimi's. We talk of her. I share stories. Sometimes I don't speak at all. Sometimes, her Daddy says Camden comes from a long line of strong women.

I can only hope that to be true of my life as it is true of my Mom's.

But while I wait, in what I hope are many, many years before my legacy is left, I live each day. I love my daughter, my husband. I try to memorize the twinkle in Camden's eyes, the way her belly rounds and the infectious and joyful sound of her laugh. I try to remember the way her little body feels in my arms. I watch as light pure fills their being when they lay eyes on each other every afternoon - Camden and her Daddy. I hear the deep, strong voice that prays over our meals, thanking God for breath in our lungs. I witness the strong hands, following the command of a selfless heart, that clean the kitchen after I've cooked dinner, no matter how messy the condition. I listen each night as he reads a story of Camden's choosing and then sings a song. I feel his warmth as he hugs my body close every single night before we drift off to sleep.

My life is good. My life is full. My life is joy.

I live. I live in that goodness, fullness, and joy from God every day. And I look at our picture, my Mama and I. A moment captured.

Loving can hurt

Loving can hurt sometimes

But it's the only thing that I know

When it gets hard

You know it can get hard sometimes

It is the only thing that makes us feel alive

We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

Times forever frozen still

So you can keep me

Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

Holdin' me closer 'til our eyes meet

You won't ever be alone

Wait for me to come home

Loving can heal

Loving can mend your soul

And it's the only thing that I know, know

I swear it will get easier

Remember that with every piece of ya

And it's the only thing we take with us when we die

We keep this love in this photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Our hearts were never broken

Times forever frozen still

So you can keep me

Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet

You won't ever be alone

And if you hurt me

That's OK baby, only words bleed

Inside these pages you just hold me

And I won't ever let you go

Wait for me to come home

Wait for me to come home

Wait for me to come home

Wait for me to come home

Oh you can fit me

Inside the necklace you got when you were 16

Next to your heartbeat where I should be

Keep it deep within your soul

And if you hurt me

Well, that's OK baby, only words bleed

Inside these pages you just hold me

And I won't ever let you go

Wait for me to come home

-Ed Sheeran, Photograph