Sunday Was Just Short ……

…… of a miracle.

Not because it was my birthday, though birth, in and of itself, is always miraculous.
(Please accept my apologies if you just gagged. I did, too.)

Not because it was Father’s day, though it’s difficult a day for many people I know.

It wasn’t a miracle for those two things alone, but their occurrence together induced the miracle.

The miracle was this: I made it through that day …… through those two occasions …… without a tear.
Not one.
My eyes didn’t tear up at all.

I realize that most people wouldn’t see that as a miracle …… but I also know that most of you reading this …… know that it is.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel my heart tug a couple of times when I thought of Jim …… and of his absence. But I immediately turned my thoughts to the memories of him, instead of dwelling on the empty space he should be filling.
And I smiled.

I still miss him every day.
I will always miss him.
I will always wish that it had been me who left, while he stayed and did a better job of parenting.
Of being a better person.

But here I am.
And life is good, most of the time.
I am happy, most of the time.
And I’m thankful that I’ve reached the point where I can choose to sit and cry over Jim’s absence, or I can choose to sit and remember him, remember us …… remember all of the good stuff.

I’d much rather smile than cry.
Mostly because I’m an ugly crier and you can tell I’ve been crying even an hour after I stopped.
It’s a curse.

So anyway, I’m thankful for the miracle I experienced on Sunday.
I’m thankful for the father that Jim was to our children.
And I’m thankful for all of the birthdays I had while he was here.
(I’m not thankful that he’ll always be much younger than me now ….. that’s just aggravating!)

All this to say …… when you can …… choose to smile at the memories, rather than cry at the loss.
When.
You.
Can.

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