Family Time

When Paul was alive, I found that I was often thankful for all of the little things. So many, many times whenever we were all together as a family, I would feel this overwhelming urge to offer up a prayer of thanks. It didn't matter if we were on vacation or in the hospital playroom - as long as all five of us were together, I was grateful. I can't count how many times I simply prayed, "Thank you, Lord, for today. I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I'm so grateful for this moment." There were countless times we'd be in the car, driving home after a dinner out, our tummies full of chicken nuggets and french fries (because it was Paul's turn to pick dinner), all three boys sitting in the back seat, belting out the words to some U2 song (because it was Terrill's turn to pick the music), and I would be so... happy. It didn't matter that Paul and I had to get up at six the next morning to go to Fort Worth for chemotherapy because RIGHT THEN, at that very moment, we were all together as a family, and I was thankful.

I haven't had that same feeling of gratitude since Paul died - until last weekend. We were at Six Flags, and as I was watching Jack walk toward me with that "post roller coaster grin" on his face, that same gratefulness hit me. We were all together as a family...almost. When I said my same old prayer, I realized that it had been so long since I've truly felt grateful for my family. Shame on me.

I don't know if it will ever again "feel" like we are all together as a family. It is always painfully obvious that a huge part of us is missing, but I can be grateful... I am grateful.

Thank you, Lord, for today.

Tell him, Lord

Tell him, Lord...
Tell him how much we miss him.
Tell him how often we remember him.
Tell him that we still talk about him around the dinner table.

Tell him, Lord...
Tell him that I'd give anything for another game of Skip-Bo.
That I long to whisper in his ear, rub his soft head, and kiss him on "da wips."
That I miss our nights together in the cramped hospital bed.

Tell him, Lord...
Tell him that our family just isn't the same without him.
That he will always be part of us.
That his pictures are all over the house.

Tell him, Lord...
Tell him how much his short life changed ours forever.
That he taught us so much about loving, enduring, caring and sharing.
That our lives are forever changed because of him.

Tell him, Lord...
Tell him that I love him. Bad.