It was a red robin kind of day

Well, the wedding is over......we've reached a new milestone,
we're 'in-laws'. 

Our daughter, Amy, married her long-time boyfriend, Bradford yesterday.  It was a lovely day, she was a beautiful bride (of course!) and they both looked very happy. 
Amy had been very thoughtful in remembering Ian on her special day.  She walked down the aisle to a recording of him playing the piano, the lemon wedding favors were a nod to him that included his favorite lemonade recipe and she had a memorial table that also included members of Bradford's family that they have also loved and lost.

I was very cognizant that this was Amy's day, she deserved this moment in her life and for it to be about her.  I tried to take my cues from her, letting her do as much, or as little as she felt was needed in the days leading up to the wedding and the day itself.  The day before the wedding she wanted to "visit Ian" so we all went to Ballard and left a smaller version of her bridal bouquet at his grave. We also left a QR code below his name for those who may wonder by and want to know "who was this young man who died so young?"
I was surprised by how emotional it was for me.  The loss of Ian for this major event in our family was profound.  I had a good cry then it was time to focus on Amy.  Moments would come the next two days and I would try to imagine what Ian's reactions would have been.  Would he have been bored at the rehearsal dinner?  Would he have loved to dress up in his infamous grey shoes?  Would he have needled his sister and tried to annoy her?  I think he would have loved to sit and visit with his cousins, so many of them are artistic and he seldom got to see them.  I'm sorry he had to miss all this.

We did get some gifts that made the day very special.  Eric said he saw a red robin at our house (for the significance of this see my first blog entry- Our Red Robin).  The bird let him get close and just stared at him for the longest time.  Later, at the wedding venue I saw a red robin hopping around the gazebo.
  But what was really special was when it was discovered that there was a robin nest in the trees right over the Sweetheart Table where Bradford & Amy were sitting - that was a moment. That was a gift.

I can recognize these gifts and thank God for them because I believe they come from Him.  I haven't yet learned how to thank him for the pain since that also must come from Him.   Someone pointed out to me recently that when we look at stories in the Bible about people's responses to suffering we often forget that their recognition of God's grace in those circumstances took time - sometimes many years.  It wasn't immediate.  We live in such an 'instant' society that we sometimes expect resolution immediately.  We forget that healing takes time.  Perhaps some can give thanks for the pain immediately, I'm not one of those people.  Forgive me if this wound, which feels so wide and so deep, takes more time to heal.

A year ago I wrote down some "do's & don'ts" on what someone can do to help a parent who has lost a child.  Now that we've reached the one year mark, I think it's time to update that list.

• DON'T ask Eric & I if we're over Ian's death, that's insulting.  We didn't lose a pet, we lost our son.  We will never be over it.  We will learn to live with it, but we will never be over it.

• DO understand that the one year mark is not some magic number that makes everything ok.  We are just beginning our journey, not finishing it.

• DON'T be surprised if I don't open up when you ask me how I'm doing.  I do appreciate you asking but depending on the day, I may not feel like talking.  I usually have three responses - OK, Fine or Good.  I will translate those answers for you:  

          Good - I'm feeling pretty darn good, bordering on happy.
          Fine - It hasn't been a good day but it hasn't been the worst day of my life either.  I'm   
                    functioning.
          OK - I got up this morning and showered but I'm missing Ian more than you can imagine;
                   that's as good as it's going to get today.

• DON'T compare our journey with someone else's.  Our way of handling this is not better or worse than some other couple, our journey is just that - ours.  We are doing the best we can.  We don't need your pity, just your understanding.

I've been reading a book by Philip Yancey called Where is God When It Hurts? and I wanted to share some things that have made an impression of this grief-stricken, 4 brain-celled mind:
"God wants us to choose to love him freely, even when that choice involves pain, because we are committed to him, not to our own good feelings and rewards."
"The modern emphasis on miraculous healing has the frequent side effect of causing unhealed ones to feel as though God has passed them by."
"In the end, it was God's presence that filled the void."
"God doesn't reveal his grand design.  He reveals himself."
"Rejoice, not in the fact that we are suffering, but in our confidence that the pain can be transformed."
"The value lies not in the pain itself, but in what we can make of it."
"...unless we learn dependence we will never experience grace."
and my personal favorite......
"Faith means believing in advance what will only make sense in reverse."