Life after the death of a child is a strange thing. Three months in, most days aren’t very emotional, but the memories of your child are always present. Sometimes they are just below the surface of consciousness, and other times they are very much above it, but they are always there, bobbing around in the ocean of your mind. And every once in a while, seemingly out of nowhere, tears flow uncontrollably as you drive yourself to work. And you praise God with a wet face and blurry eyes. And you are so full of hope and joy and peace and yet utterly sad and filled with longing.
And a week or so later you try to write about it, but you realize this isn’t something that can be communicated in a blog post. You realize words are much too feeble to carry the weight of this explanation.