Life Goes On

A typical NMSI Saturday has the guys playing basketball at the park while several moms and kids chat and play at the playground there, followed by a potluck style brunch at the Fosters' house just a block or two away. The Fosters just got back into town from support raising and classes at MTI (Missionary Training International) in preparation to move to Kenya, so there wasn't brunch this week, but the other activities have resumed. Matt loves playing basketball, but he wasn't able to come this week because he's been feeling sick---throwing up and such. Turns out he slept for 30 hours and is feeling a lot better now. He's going to the CLA, a Christian leadership conference, this week---leaving Sunday and returning on Thursday. Will you pray that this would be a time of rest and refreshment for him? Joe Belzer is his roommate there---can't think of a better person for the job. Matt says he's looking forward to swimming in the pool at the hotel, maybe getting a massage, sleeping through the night because he won't have to wake up to feed Caleb, and attending a session here and there since he already paid for them. He is the head of our HR division.

This morning, just shortly after I arrived at the park, the kids were shouting my name in greeting, calling me over to where they were and showing me all kinds of cool tricks they can do on the swings, the monkey bars, etc. After pushing Seth (5) for a few minutes on the swing "as high as it would go" he said, "Joanne, do you know that I want you to marry Daddy?" I didn't know what to say. He repeated himself, wanting a response. "No, I didn't know that until you told me," I replied. Looking around the park, I realized a lot of the women in his life right now were married. Danielle, one of Kylee's best friends, is married and has kids that Seth loves playing with. Joy, Matt's sister, is married and Seth loves playing with his cousin Joshua, too. Two of the other main players are his grandmas. They were the only other women around right then. "Well, I do. I want you to marry Daddy" Seth affirmed. "I love your Daddy and you guys a whole bunch" I told him, still not sure if that was the right thing to say but knowing that it's true. The conversation ended there, as play continued to incorporate restaurant themes, pirate ships, tag, climbing on anything that looked remotely like a tree, etc.

A little while later Sarai (2.5 years old) was playing baby with the Bodens' next door neighbor who had come to the park with them. "I want Mommy," she stated. "Your Mommy is dead" the other girl reminded her. Sarai paused for a second. "I want Daddy," she stated. "Daddy is at home because he doesn't feel good," I explained... I thought about a story someone else had relayed to me... A few days ago, perhaps for the first time since Kylee's death, Sarai spontaneously stated, "My mommy is dead" in the car on their way home. "I know," her cousin Joshua affirmed.

I am amazed at how matter of factly and openly kids talk about death, about pain. I love that they just say whatever they're thinking, sometimes trying it on for size, testing it out, saying it to see what kind of reaction they'll get, seeing if it's true or not. Reminding us both that it really happened, that Kylee is really gone, and that life goes on. Matt said that a lot of times kids do more of their grieving later, as they grow older. Another friend explained that grief is kind of like a book that kids open once in a while to flip through, close again, and take back out later to look through some more. That it's a gift God gives them to not be aware of the full weight of it all right now because it would be too much for them, that they realize different aspects of what Kylee's death means for their lives, for their futures a little at a time. Just more evidence that God is good and knows how much we can handle and how quickly.

Later that same day (today actually) Matt told me I could keep Kylee's bike, that it was her gift to me. If you recall, she'd lent it to me to train for the bike-a-thon earlier this year. I thought he'd probably say that, but it was still a big deal when it happened. The experiences of the day really hit home for me as I drove home shortly after that interaction with him (to go on a bike ride with my friend Angela, actually). Sometimes it's so obvious that Kylees gone and not going to come back, something that's totally on my radar in day to day life. Thinking about Matt and the kids and how they're doing, or about how Kylee would really "get" that a certain experience was a huge personal milestone of growth for me in a way that no one else on Earth really does/could/will. Other times her death just sneaks up on me, like it did at the park when Seth told me he wanted me to marry Matt. It really happened. She's really gone. No more hugs. No more conversations. No more tears together. No more mom for her kids. No more wife for Matt. Not hearing her laugh again... All five years old and under, in all likelihood, her children won't remember her despite the fact that she was an incredible mom and fully invested herself in their lives, pouring her heart into loving them. It's just weird to think about. And life goes on...