A Letter

Dear Brandon, I find myself parked in the post office parking lot sobbing like the day you died. Why the post office? Because it's the closest spot to the temple I could find. I wept the whole drive here. Not that that was the plan. I was leaving for work, with little ganas de work at all today. I hardly made it past the driveway before the tears demanded their right to flow. It didn't make sense for me to try and push through to see my hospice clients in the state I was in. Hardly therapeutically sound. The only goal that made sense - that seemed to fit - was the temple. If anywhere can bring peace, it's God's house. I turned on what I feel has become our new song, "I'll Cover You," the reprise. Tears, tears, tears. I know you'll cover me "when I'm worn out and tired" and even "when you're heart has expired." I complain a lot because I can't feel you cover me anymore.

After weeping to the point of utter weakness and ache, I started to talk to you. Well, after crying out to my Heavenly Father for help, through the sobs, I calmed enough to try and talk to you. So writing to you seems redundant, but I felt impressed to do it anyway, and probably so I can share it with anyone who may need it later.

One of the first things I managed to say: "Our relationship has changed." In my DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) trained mind, I then added, "It [the change] is not good or bad, it just is." Then I laughed at my ingenuity, "Well, I think it's bad actually. But I'm trying to just accept it!"

I think that is my next step though: to accept that our relationship is changed and not judge it - not label the change good or bad, not pine over what was lost (past) or obsess over what will be (future). I need to be here now, as my sister's tattoo says. ;) I need to embrace what is - to open my heart to the present. My life has changed. The world has changed. Our relationship has changed. And really, that doesn't make it better or worse. Just different. But here's the thing... If anything, I know it ultimately will make our relationship better. I know, with certainty, that God is good. (You're with Him now, so I can picture you getting excited when I say that and exclaiming, "You have no IDEA!") I know that not only will every loss be restored, but it will turn to a gain. When deficits occur in life, He doesn't help just to bring us back to break even at zero (i.e. the starting point) again; He gives a higher compensation. You like that financial jargon I threw in for ya? :) Though it'd appeal. (Although I'm sure you have even less true interest in financial studies than ever before.) How about some fashion allusions, since that field was always so much more appealing to you. Here goes:

I know that every stain, tear, snag or wrend in my heart will not only be "patched up" by the Lord, but embellished to the ​​

point where no imperfection is even present anymore. It will be utterly transformed to a glorious, new fabric of life. My heart and soul - the very materials that constitute my love for you, my sense of self, and my hope in the Lord - will be given new shape, form, and beauty. The process Christ uses never results in a cheap patch​​ job, but in an artful alteration.

I bet you, like me, are thinking at least peripherally, about the many times I've sewn up holes in your pants only to have to do it again a wear or two later. :) I'm feeling a bit better. Maybe I'll be able to get to work today after all. I went ahead and canceled the graveyard shift I had scheduled for tomorrow. You were always good about reminding me to practice self-care, and that seemed like something you would tell me to do. It's nice to know that by doing right by me, I'm doing right by you.

Anyway, thanks, as always, for listening. I'll try not to get so obsessed with my hopes of seeing you again that I miss our on life in the here and now.

Meanwhile, I'm sending you all the love in my heart and a "thousand sweet kisses" to tide us both over until next time.

Love you always, dear ipo!

Mary