Lately I have a little bit more bandwidth. Lately I have
started being able to do some of the things I used to do. And lately, people
have been saying to me: “You’re back.”
Please don’t be mistaken, friends. I am in no way “back.”
You see, there is no coming back from where I have been. To say that I am
“back” is to imply that somehow I have returned to the girl I was before eleven
o’clock in the morning on December 11th, 2014.
Before I got that horrible phone call. Before my world was
shaken and my heart was shattered.
That girl is gone. She will never return.
I think you could more
easily resuscitate my brother than the girl that I was on December 10th. People have said often that they “miss the
old me.” I can tell you this: Not as much as I do. I would give anything to
undo the damage that has been done.
Mostly because undoing that damage would mean that my
brother would still be here laughing and scheming and breathing. But he is not.
And because of that, I carry a weight and a scar that will go with me until
Jesus calls me home.
Do not misunderstand me. I am not without hope and peace and
joy. I have those things. But I also have anguish and pain that sometimes
levels me. Sometimes I look at a picture of him and the realization that he is
really gone and he is gone forever, it punches me straight in the gut. Most
days I feel completely irreparable.
I am moving forward. But I will never move on. His death
will now always be a part of me, just like Paul himself will always be a part
of me.
This week is Suicide Awareness Week. Light a candle. Buy a shirt from Sevenly (their campaign this week benefits National Suicide Prevention Lifeline). Pray for my family. Remember Paul..
The man, the myth, my brother.
