March 23, 2012 — 13 Years Today, and Yet It Feels Like Yesterday

A day in history for me that will go down in infamy. I’m remembering all those days ago, praying for a baby brother. I remember the day you were born, the first time I saw you in the hospital, and the countless hours we spent playing swords, Xbox, wrestling, and more. I remember the ups and downs of having an annoying little brother but also the joys of having a close companion to grow up with.

I remember the hours we spent playing with our cousin/sister, Ariel. I remember you calling me each night after I got off work, saying, “Bro, I’m hungry. Feed me. The food at the café was nasty,” or that you had overslept for dinner. I’d give anything for those days again, and I’d give anything to hear your voice once more.

I remember the last day I saw you. If only I could turn back the hands of time — there’s so much I’d say to you. There’s so much I remember, and it makes me feel overwhelmed with emotions of both sadness and happiness. But this, too, I remember well: you were a young man who was maturing physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And I hold on to the blessed hope that one day I’ll see you again, when you’re caught up as Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 4:16:

“For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first.”

It still feels numb to think that you’re not here anymore, but I feel joy in the blessed hope that we, as brothers, will be reunited again. As the song says:

“But until then my heart will go on singing,
Until then with joy I’ll carry on,
Until the day my eyes behold that city,
Until the day God calls me home.”

Holding On to the Promise

The pain of grief has a way of making time feel both fast and slow. It’s been 13 years, but the ache still feels fresh. Yet, through the waves of sadness, I am reminded of the promise that Jesus Himself gave us. In John 14:1-3, He said:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

Grief can often feel like a heavy weight, pressing down on the soul. But God, in His infinite mercy, gives us the hope of reunion. He reminds us that this life is not the end. Just as Jesus conquered death and rose again, those who sleep in Christ will rise again. This promise breathes life into the weary soul, reminding us that although our loved ones are no longer physically here, their story is not over.

Living in the In-Between

As I walk through life with this void in my heart, I am learning to live in the tension of sorrow and hope. I grieve, but not as one without hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). The pain of loss is real, but the promise of eternal life is even more real.

In her writings, Ellen G. White reminds us of this truth:

“To the weary and heavy-laden, to those who have borne the burden and heat of the day, the rest is promised. It is not the rest that comes through inaction, for in the Father’s house His servants shall serve Him. But it is rest, rest in bearing the burdens and in performing the duties of this life.” — The Desire of Ages, p. 301

Even in my grief, I am learning to rest in the promises of God. I am learning to trust that His plan is perfect, even when I don’t understand it. I am learning to carry on with joy, knowing that one day, the pain will be replaced with eternal joy.

A Call to Persevere in Faith

As I carry on, I am reminded that each day brings me one step closer to that glorious reunion. I press forward, holding on to the blessed hope. Until the day I see your face again, Justin, and the blessed face of our Redeemer, I will live with purpose and faith.

If you are walking through grief today, hold on to the promises of God. Remember that He is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). Lean into His strength and trust that He is working all things together for your good.

“Until then, with joy I’ll carry on.”

The Clay Pot Misfit