I cried last night. I was actually fine all day, but as soon as I turned out the light to go to bed, the floodgates opened. I haven’t cried that hard in a long time. It all finally just settled on me like a stack of bricks.
Found out yesterday that all our kids overseas mission trips were canceled. No Africa. No Trinidad. No Ecuador. No South Korea. Grace was the sweetest thing and her eyes welled up with tears and she quietly cried when we told her.
Chris and I had planned a trip to Disneyworld with Caleb as a “last hurrah” before he starts a full load of college in the fall, but that is now canceled, too. First world problem, I know.
But I want to hug my mom. And see my friends in person. And have lunch in a restaurant. And go to work. And I want my friends to be able to go to work. And I want to have family over for a bbq. And honestly, the pain of not being able to have human contact is like a wound that gets reopened each day. And it’s taking its toll.
I know there will be new memories to come. And there’s hope. And I know I’m not alone in the way I feel. Every one of us has lost something. Some more than others.
But, we all have those days. And today is a new day, as I’m looking out my front window at sunny skies, birds are chirping, and my dog sits next to me. Cup of coffee in hand, I can still choose to find the blessings. Each of my family members is healthy. We still have jobs. We have so much to be thankful for. So today, I’ll cling to that but still allow myself the room to carry some of the sorrow. Because without the rain, there would be no rainbow.