Why Today?

Grief comes in waves. Like a tsunami, it’s hard to predict when it will hit or how much it will devastate. Two waves hit today. One before I went to school to put grades in the computer (My first day to teach will be tomorrow.) and one just a few minutes ago, after I watched a movie about a man who was really misunderstood by his family.

The anniversary of Kylee’s death is tomorrow. I miss the times when she’d get home from small group and sit on her couch talking to me, running her fingers through my hair. I miss being touched like that. As her fingers ran through my hair, I knew I was important to her, valued. There is no particular memory I’m thinking of…just the reminder that she used to do that for me. Just the deep desire to be comforted and held. To be understood. Treasured. Whether I’d feel peaceful or whether tears would slide gently down my cheeks, there was something powerful about those moments. The human presence is powerful. Human touch is powerful. To have someone sit with me and touch me while I am in pain means everything in that moment. It is the most precious gift. To be heard and touched. To be remembered and noticed. To be seen.

I miss you, Kylee. I miss how you saw me.