It was hard on my son at first, he’d ask weekly where his big sister was. I’d lie flat out, saying, “Oh honey, she’s just been working really hard, she’ll call… one day.”
Except one day hasn’t come in over a year and a half. The phone has not rang in over 365 days.
He doesn’t ask about her anymore.
And how do you explain to a six-year-old that his big sister has run away because she thinks we’re sinners who are unchoosen? How do you tell those brown eyes that she doesn’t want us anymore? How do I break his heart ever so softly, when in truth, it’s all harsh?
How does anyone explain how a normal human being can take the bible so far out of context to believe that God is calling you to abandon everyone, even your own child to worship him? How does one praise from under a bushel?
I wrote almost daily after she disappeared. I had a blog specifically aimed at reaching her, knowing (with my lurky super spy skills) that she or her mother were online… but over the past year I’ve lost the words.
How many times can you say, “Come back, no matter what, we still love you”?
How many tears can be spilt over a keyboard?
How many prayers can be said alone in the cover of night?
I don’t cry anymore, not for her, not for her husband, not for her child, not for me. My soul will forever be broken for the loss that her father, my husband, is experiencing, a loss I’m not sure he will ever get past.
A loss I’m not sure we will ever get past.
Yet we have no choice. We must keep living. We don’t get the choice to run away from the things that hurt us.
And so my son forgets, and so I shall allow him to. Just for now. It feels safe to let him let go slowly, quietly, peacefully. It feels better, maybe easier to let him in on the hurt when his heart isn’t so young. When his mind can better understand… even if I’m positive my mind never will.
And maybe I’m quietly praying that she’ll come back before he ever feels the real loss…
365 days, my door has remained open, forever it shall remain.