One Year

It's been 365 days since I last saw my brother alive and held his hand. On one hand I can't believe a year has already gone by, while on the other it feels like an eternity since I last felt the warmth of his skin. I don't know if I'll ever be able to erase from my memory the horror of those 3 days. I remember my phone ringing at 4 am and the caller ID saying it was Dad, but in my bleary, half-awake/half-asleep state I sent it to voicemail without thinking. The second I did, I immediately panicked. Mom and Dad were in Italy, so I instantly knew something was wrong. But in the time that it took for me to sit bolt upright in bed and before Matt's phone started ringing, I had never imagined that the call would be about Rob. I thought something might have happened in Italy. Or a series of other scenarios that had gone through my head. But when Matt handed me the phone and Mom said it was Rob, that he wasn't breathing and they were life-watching him to Wichita my knees went out beneath me and I just sank. I remember asking her through tears if he was going to die and both of us just sobbing. Everyone was in shock. Information was traveling at a snail's pace it seemed. Matt was frantically booking my ticket to Wichita while I was calling Jared trying to understand what was going on. Nobody really knew anything other than he wasn't breathing. Turns out he fell and hit his head on the golf course while out with some friends. And mom and dad weren't home so the hospital kept calling their house without getting an answer.

I remember throwing things in a bag, but intentionally leaving out anything that could be worn for a funeral because I was willing him to be alive and begging God to let him live. Matt got Emma and I to the airport and I was just going through the motions. On my flight from Dallas to Wichita the flight attendant just took Emma because she was pitching a fit, and served the beverages with Emma on her hip. The kindness of strangers during that time was amazing. Thank God for Jared during those two days before Mom and Dad made it back as well. His strength never ceases to amaze me, even when he's scared as we all were. He was able to hold it together and communicate with the doctors and nurses as well as with Mom and Dad as they were sporadically able to call while trying to get back the US.

In the year since Rob's passing I've learned a lot about grief. I've struggled with my faith as I've witnessed and heard of others' suffering. I've questioned why a just and loving God would allow such things to happen to good people.  I've been so angry and sad at times that I've just wanted to scream. I've gone through the motions of the day trying to mask the hurt. The hurt of knowing Emma will never know her uncle Rob, the hurt of knowing how sad we all are and how much Brooklyn and Ethan miss him. There still hasn't been a day that's gone by that he wasn't the first thing I thought of in the morning and the last thing I thought of at night. But after a year of these questions and 'what ifs' I've come to the conclusion that a loving God is the only way to make sense of such tragedies. I know this life isn't our final reward, so I know that one day we'll all know the answers to the questions of suffering. But until we are all reunited with him again, this journey here on earth will seem that much longer.

As Rob always said, "gamble on a little."