Ever notice just how vital touch is? Sometimes the loss of Dan is excruciating, and the thing that brings comfort is touch. I can touch that quilt made with his shirts. I can touch the picture of his face. I can feel the warmth of a hug that a friend gives. I can hold his baby. It doesn’t even have to be something that was his . . if I can just feel something. So many sensations seem lost . . .
So much is lost. My memories of my childhood (something he was not a part of) make me wonder about his memories. He remembered things that his family didn’t and now those memories are gone. I remember doing something one way and he remembers something a bit different or a detail I missed and now that balance isn’t there. He talked with people, prayed for people, and cared for people I never even met. Those relationships, the prayers, the love, . . all sucked into the void that his death created. How can he be gone? What does one do with a hole like that? Sometimes I think that hole is so tangible that I can almost reach out and touch it. And there is that “touch” again.
My most vivid picture of him is in the hospital. I see him laying there on that hospital bed all swollen with the fluids they kept pumping into him, lying so still, so quiet, so cold. Even then all I wanted to do was touch him. Almost like touching him, holding his hand, was enough to keep him from leaving me. Looking back I feel a tremendous desire to go back in time and just hold on, make that last kiss a little longer, spend some more time with him the night he left, . . . but I am reminded that what I really want is to have that touch now and nothing I did then would make that touch available to me now.
Oh Lord! Fill that hole so full that it is bursting with your love, grace and goodness.. Let me, and others, see you shining through this crack in my life. You made that hole. You created the desire, a nice cleanly cut hole, and then you filled that with Dan. You planted him and his love into my life and it took root and spread. And then you ripped him out of my life leaving a jagged tear and even more holes where you pulled out the roots. Now I need you to heal that wound, fill up the crater that you have created. Each of those roots that spread into so many areas of my life and wrapped themselves around me were yanked out, leaving me battered and bruised, weak and sick, and oh so empty. I need your filling presence.