Today would have been your 93rd birthday. This year you will have been gone for 7 years. I can't tell you how much those 7 years feel like an entire lifetime. I thought for a minute about getting flowers and taking them to your grave. Yellow roses. I know you would have loved them. But then I stopped and remembered that you're not there. As much as I still love you, as much as I want more than anything to bring you flowers on your birthday and do something to put a smile on your face, I can't. You won't see them. They'll sit lonely and quiet in the cold January air. No one will notice them, except maybe the groundskeeper, who will look on them with a sad smile. But you know what? That's ok. Because I know that you're with Jesus and I have no doubt that you're experiencing a more beautiful birthday than any of us can even imagine.
Today I'm thinking about what a profound effect you had on my life and what a profound loss I experienced when you died. I would say that it has possibly been the single most profound loss I've ever had to walk through. I don't think that I was even consciously aware of this at the time but in retrospect, I realize that you were the person that I loved most in my childhood. You were a safe and unconditional source of love for me. The only safe and unconditional source of love in my life. The grief of that loss is something that I have yet to even begin to process, let alone overcome. For some reason, I can't access it. I never really have been able to. From a few days after you died I just went numb and from then on, the only emotion that I've managed to feel are a few brief seconds of sadness followed by complete numbness. I think that my brain instinctively knows that if I were to feel the full weight of that pain, that it would break my heart in a way that it could never possibly heal itself again. Or maybe my heart simply is broken beyond repair. Because you never ever stop hurting over the loss of someone that you truly love. The pain changes with time but it is never gone. There is always a void there that no one else can fill. I love you and miss you. I don't wish you back because I know that you were tired and in constant pain. But I do wish that I could sit and talk with you. I wish that my kids could know your sweetness and friendship. I wish that you could continue to be the glue that held our family together because once you left, we all self destructed and never came back together again. The core of who we are is gone and I don't think that any of us can salvage it. We can't replace what we've lost.
I've tried so hard to keep your memory alive by showing my kids pictures of you and telling them about what a wonderful person you were. Meg remembers you. Jaikob and Kaleb do not. Kaleb will someones lay on my lap and longingly mention that he wishes that he could have known you. I think that on some deep level, he knows that he has missed out on something incredibly special. I have to say that, hands down, Jenn has gotten everyone beat when it comes to memorials. Each Christmas she has given me something that was a momento or reminder of you. This year she took your favorite housedresses and fashioned them into pillows for us to cuddle when we miss you. The only thing that could have possibly made them more perfect would have been if she has scented them with baby powder because then they would smell like you.
January 20th gave birth to one of the most beautiful souls. It is my honor to have known you, to have been loved and taught by you. You shaped the person that I am today and gave me such a powerful example of what a woman, mother, grandmother, and Christ follower should be. Happy 93rd Birthday Grandma Ruth. I love you more than you could ever know.
