Fancy's Follies: 36

Today would have been Rob's 36th birthday. I still have his number saved in my phone because I just can't make myself delete it yet. And I would give anything to call that number and have him answer so I can tease him and tell him how old he is getting.

Nobody can ever prepare you for what it's like to suddenly lose someone so close to you. Someone you love so deeply. I thought I could imagine how bad it must be--laying awake at night, worrying about my parents or brothers being in a car accident, something awful happening to Brooklyn, Ethan or Emma--but the reality is infinitely worse than anything imagined. The phone call that comes and brings all your nightmares to fruition, and makes your stomach drop because you just know in the pit of your stomach that everything is not going to be okay. It is really uncharted territory. There is a part of our family that is missing, and he can never be replaced. I never really thought much about the family dynamic before this happened, but now that I'm forced to think about it I see what a unique role every member plays. Dad, Mom, Jared, Rob and myself; as well as Amanda, Matt, Brook, Ethan and Emma. There is a passage from the book "Lament for a Son" by Nicholas Wolterstorff that speaks to how this feels:

There's a hole in the world now. In the place where he was, there's now just nothing. A center, like no other, of memory and hope and knowledge and affection which once inhabited this earth is gone. Only a gap remains. A perspective on this world unique in this world which once moved about within this world has been rubbed out. Only a void is left. There's nobody now who saw just what he saw, knows what he knew, remembers what he remembered, loves what he loved. A person, an irreplaceable person, is gone. Never again will anyone apprehend the world quite the way he did. Never again will anyone inhabit the world the way he did. Questions I have can never now get answers. The world is emptier. My [brother] is gone. Only a hole remains, a void, a gap, never to be filled.

And that is how it would feel with the loss of any of us. But death has singled Rob out. Ripped him from our family. Taken away the role he filled among us. His absence means that each one of us has lost a friend that only he could be and a relationship that only he could give.

Rob, we all miss you more than words can say and we wish you were here. But we have to hold onto the faith that you were born into a new life (the life where true living begins) on July 25th, and are looking forward to the day we all join you in eternity with the Father, never to be separated again. We love you...