Six Months

Yellow Flowers
Friday will be six months since Tim died. Yesterday I took my camera to the cemetery to take several shots of the grave marker and the yellow flowers I'd put in the vase some days ago. I wanted to check that the flowers weren't blown away by the storm the other night.

When I got out of the car, it was as if I could hear Tim say, "This place is creepy, all these graves for people who aren't actually dead..." I understood what he meant.

If Jesus was their Savior, they are more alive today than ever, enjoying the beauties of heaven and the wonder of His presence, as well as the fascination of whatever assignment they have now.

I told him, "I never thought about it that way. Anyway, I'm not doing this for you, remember. I'm doing it for other people." I checked that the flowers were okay, then took my photos and headed to the grocery store. Time for cat food and kitty litter again.

As I pushed the cart up one aisle and down another, I passed by things I don't buy for Tim any more, but this time it didn't bother me so much. I looked at the fresh fruit and wondered what kind of snacks Tim nibbles on these days. Ice-cream flavored "grapes?" Cheese-flavored "canteloupe?"

And what delicious things does he have for breakfast, lunch and supper in heaven -- bacon-flavored "oranges?" Scrambled egg-flavored "apples?" Grilled chicken or green bean-flavored "bananas?" (In addition to oranges and apples that taste like oranges and apples, of course.)

Tim is okay, much more than okay, really. And we will be okay, too, his family who still miss him so very much.