Full disclosure
We leave for Mission trip in less than two weeks and, for the first time in over a decade, I'm not ready.
I have mixed feelings about this years trip...
and even knowing I'm not alone with that feeling hasn't helped very much.
It's hard to do something 'wholeheartedly' when a piece of your heart is missing.
This will be the first trip to the reservation for our group without Andy.
The simple reality of driving solo or NOT being his navigator for 15+ hours will only be the 'first' of so many things that will reinforce that a profound change has occurred; a change I'm still not reconciled to.
There's something so uniquely personal and, at the same time, so universal about grieving the loss of someone you love.
No matter how many times you've traveled the road before and think you know the territory, there are still things that catch you by surprise; things that are very specific reminders of the person who's died.
You're gone,
leaving me stunned
by the suddenness,
the finality of your departure.
Last year
we were teasing each other,
cruising down the highway
like two shopping carts
with all the wheels going in the same direction
Now, the awkward, clumsy
wonky wheeled cart,
the one abandoned within feet of being chosen,
is noisily pulling me in different directions...
none of them where I want to be going,
because none of them are with you.
A part of me has been ripped away without my permission;
and I am angry.
A part of me is lonely,
knowing I will never see your smile,
except in my memory.
Yet part of me knows
that you are alive somewhere beyond my reach.
Lord, even though I'm incredibly angry at you for allowing it to happen,
I know my friend is with you even now, face to face,
with more wholeness, happiness and love
than I could ever hope to have given.
My friend,
I miss you.
I will see you again someday.
Truth be told, I'll see you everywhere I look on the reservation.
Damn, it's hard letting go... and moving on.
I have mixed feelings about this years trip...
and even knowing I'm not alone with that feeling hasn't helped very much.
It's hard to do something 'wholeheartedly' when a piece of your heart is missing.
This will be the first trip to the reservation for our group without Andy.
The simple reality of driving solo or NOT being his navigator for 15+ hours will only be the 'first' of so many things that will reinforce that a profound change has occurred; a change I'm still not reconciled to.
There's something so uniquely personal and, at the same time, so universal about grieving the loss of someone you love.
No matter how many times you've traveled the road before and think you know the territory, there are still things that catch you by surprise; things that are very specific reminders of the person who's died.
You're gone,
leaving me stunned
by the suddenness,
the finality of your departure.
Last year
we were teasing each other,
cruising down the highway
like two shopping carts
with all the wheels going in the same direction
Now, the awkward, clumsy
wonky wheeled cart,
the one abandoned within feet of being chosen,
is noisily pulling me in different directions...
none of them where I want to be going,
because none of them are with you.
A part of me has been ripped away without my permission;
and I am angry.
A part of me is lonely,
knowing I will never see your smile,
except in my memory.
Yet part of me knows
that you are alive somewhere beyond my reach.
Lord, even though I'm incredibly angry at you for allowing it to happen,
I know my friend is with you even now, face to face,
with more wholeness, happiness and love
than I could ever hope to have given.
My friend,
I miss you.
I will see you again someday.
Truth be told, I'll see you everywhere I look on the reservation.
Damn, it's hard letting go... and moving on.
I can actually feel Andy getting ready for the mission trip. He will be with you all, wishing he was driving, grabbing for his tool belt, staring at the endless sky, and rejoicing to see old, good friends again. Thank you for including him in this mission. I know how much he loved you all. Ann Marie
ReplyDeleteAnd we loved him!
ReplyDeleteHe will be part of every trip we take; continually inspiring us to work a little harder and be a little better than we thought we could.
I will definitely miss his Jersey lead foot on the gas pedal however - he could, at least, make the way I drive look 'normal'! :)
I send my best wishes to all the missioners as you prepare for your departure on Saturday. Thank you for giving of your time and of yourselves To undertake this important work.
ReplyDeleteAnn Marie