I made the comment not long ago that when Nathan died, I lost one of the “constants” in my life. I said that because, well, I honestly can’t remember a time when Nathan was absent from my life. I could make a long list of the many “hats” that I wear: mom, daughter, wife, employee, boss, friend, colleague, volunteer, aunt, niece, granddaughter, cousin … sister. Adjusting to my new identity without a piece that I’ve known all my life feels akin to losing something of utmost value, something irreplaceable.

I’ve never lost a limb – praise God! – but I imagine it might be like that. You can still function, of course, but it’s dreadfully painful and terribly inconvenient. I’ve heard that when someone loses an arm or leg, for instance, they sometimes have phantom pains in the region of the lost appendage. I used to think: How bizarre! … Wow, how I understand that phenomenon a bit better now. When I have these moments of hollow aching, when I want so badly to pick up the phone and call him … it’s my own phantom pain.

I get so focused on the here & now because I have to operate one day at a time for my own sanity’s sake, but when my mind wanders to the future, I feel a pain in my spirit. I think about that inevitable table-turning time in life when children become the caretakers for their parents. I always imagined that Nathan and I would work together and share the load. It would be different, I suppose, if I’d been an only child from the get-go, but now when I think about having to endure all that by myself, it’s enough to send me crawling under the covers. I just have to trust that God will give me strength to get through it, when the time comes. There’s no sense worrying about it now, but I can’t keep my mind from wandering.

I’ve been mulling over some more thoughts on motherhood, but I’ll save that for another post.