Grief journal (2 years)

“There’s a hole in the world now. In the place where he was, there’s now just nothing. A center like no other, of memory and hope and knowledge and affection which once inhabited this earth is gone. Only a gap remains.”–Nicholas Wolterstorff, Lament for a SonIt's been two years since we said a short goodbye to Vincent and a long hello to grief. Two years have passed since I reluctantly wrote these words, then struggled to stand up and speak more reluctant words at his funeral.Much around us has changed in two years, but it's mostly the same stuff on the inside. No new revelations. No writing in the sky. As was the case two years ago, I still miss Vincent and wish he were still alive—with us. Period.I took this photo at the cemetery this morning. You can see what I saw: some flowers, a bronze marker and a little blue pinwheel spinning in the rainy trade winds. His name might be there, but I assure you Vincent is not. There is no 3-year-old chasing after birds or tramping mud into the car. No requests for piggy-back rides or other bedtime delays. Only a gap remains.So I'm not a huge fan of November 20th, the day that devastated our family. It's a day that annually seems to call for succinct explanations of lessons learned or sturdy assurances of comfort found. But even as the brightest fresh flowers can never sparkle like Vincent's eyes, the most eloquent words of Wolterstorff, Sittser, Lewis or Dickinson are no match for the silence of his absence.It's especially loud today.