Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Here we are again...

Dear Laur,

There isn't much to say to you that hasn't already been said. The farther I get from the day you left us, the harder it is to imagine a dialog between us. I love you, I hate you, I miss you... There are moments when I think of you and it is sharp. Like a deep breath of winter air in my lungs. It hurts. You hurt me. I guess I'll take that in stride like everything else.

So much has happened since you left. Huge life events that you should have been here for. Are you watching from where you are? I hope heaven keeps you busy so you don't have to watch us walking wounded. The truth is you were a bright spot in the fabric of our lives. All of our glowing moments are slightly dimmer with out you.

I've lost a lot of people from my short list. I miss them all of course. However, the loss of you is the hardest to swallow without question. It is so final, yet so unfinished. Your life is like a great manuscript that went uncompleted. Six years, and I'm still left to wonder "where would the story have gone from there?" and "how would it have ended?"

I realize that when I write to you, I'm really just pouring out my feelings. I think that's OK. I can lay my thoughts here and chip away at mountain of grief you have created in me. Maybe someone will read my letters to you and decide not to make the choice you made. Maybe they will see how every action we take in life and in death effects everyone around us. Six years and your decision is still having a profound impact on me.

I love you beautiful girl. I hate that you are gone. I miss having you to encourage me. Wish Uncle Dad a happy birthday for me. Kiss my Mom's forehead. Tell Jesus I'm grateful He loved me to death, and tell God I have a few questions for Him...

All my heart,

Mandy

Am I the Only One?

Like petrified wood after a fire, I feel I've been left frozen in place. Silently screaming from somewhere deep inside. So many dead layers to peel away. At my core the heart keeps beating. I'm trying desperately to break free. This process is beyond painful. It seems whenever you deal with old wounds the sting intensifies. Loss shapes who we become for better or worse. I'd like to say that I'm a stronger, better person after all I've been through but that wouldn't be quite true. I can't help but wonder what my life would look like if my heart hadn't gone into protection mode. Would I be warm and affectionate? Would I love without caution? Would I trust in things unseen?

The truth is, we don't get a say in what life throws at us. All we can do is remain standing.

So I'll rest in the knowledge that I'm not done yet. I'm still here. I'm surviving. No matter what I've become, I am still full of purpose. I have to believe I can be useful just as I am. If God does His best work with damaged people, I look forward to the work He has for me...