Last night as I crawled into my own bed, I was struck by the difference between this night and the last time I was there. Last week, I “slept” in my own bed with the light on, my laptop open next to me and both of my phone ringers on loud. Adrenaline coursed through my body and though there was no other sound in my house, I was not quiet. I couldn’t be. But still, that night I went to bed fairly certain Zo was going to be fine. After all, people in my family don’t get seriously injured, much less die. In my 30 years of life, young people in my family stay healthy, vibrant and alive.
Last night – eight days later - as I crawled into bed, I had the lights off. I had no media devices around. My body was quiet, tired and numb. And this time, I was wearing a beaded bracelet in honor of Zo’s memory.
Trying to fall asleep, I remembered our last week. Our horrible and wonderful, our hope-filled and grief-stricken last week. I never knew it was possible to feel all of those things right at the same time.
Over the next few days (hopefully), I will be blogging the happenings of the last week, as our family has begun the road of the deepest grief and surest hope. It will not just be my point of view, as I hope to get tidbits from the rest of the family as well.
Please continue your prayers as REAL life begins and we learn to walk in it.
Grace and Peace,