Before her nap, Audrey and I were planning her birthday party a bit. In terms of invites, her only request was Grandma and Grandpa. But then after I'd put her down for her nap, she was dancing and banged her head...so requested the little cat ice pack. Then she started dancing and singing Happy Birthday to herself again- and asked if Appa would be there. "Appa birth day?"
The verse that I chose for your funeral program said "We do not want you to be ignorant of those who've died, so that you may not grieve like others who have no hope." Another paradox of the Christian faith- grieving with hope. Not at all the absence of grief. But grief tempered with hope. I want to grieve with that hope, but honestly- sometimes I do not. Sometimes it feels false and he feels gone. A friend told me this morning not to demand that of myself- 100% hope all the time. He said maybe I can shoot for 80%.
I suppose even if I lose all hope for a little while, it would not change where you are. It is not my hope that makes it so.
I had to tell Audrey that, no, you would not be at her birthday party. I grieve that fact. You will not be there. That is the grief without hope that I feel I suppose. It is for the short-term, for the temporary- which for now- is all that I know.