I have been so struck with the shortness of life lately, for obvious reasons, I feel like I walk around with a lump in my throat so much of the time.
When death strikes, it magnifies life.
Every time has the possibility of being the last time.
My husbands hand holding mine is richer,
my children's voices are clearer,
my Dad's words are wiser,
my Moms memories are more important,
Dakota's phone calls are sweeter.
Isn't that funny that we value life more because of death?
A picture I really love of Crockett hangs on my parents refrigerator. It reminded me of a fun trip to the pool that the boys and I had that summer of 1999. Haven was just a newborn, and Crockett sat in the double stroller next to her. His face is so content in the photo, content to listen to the voices of his brothers playing in the water, to feel the breeze, and enjoy the outdoors. ElizaJane saw the photo too. "There's cutesy Crocky" she sang . "Yes," I smiled, "there's our Crocky."
You will show me the way of life,
granting me the joy of your presence
and the pleasures of living with you forever.