As Your Cousin, I’ll be Around

I haven’t written about Philip in a while and the truth is that the time I’ve been dreading, the time I feared would come at some point during the past three years, has finally come.

I’m out of words. 

I feel like I’ve exhausted all of my stories and memories and haven’t been able to create “new” ones to keep up. It’s like I’ve been trying to reach into a well and the drops that were left were satisfying, but now the well has run dry and I don’t know how to fill it again. 

The past three years have taught me so much about the grief process. Yes, I’ve gone through painful losses before, but nothing like losing Philip. The fifth stage of grief is acceptance but we often misconstrue acceptance with being content. That’s not really how it feels [for me]. It feels more like making peace - learning to live with the fact that something major has changed and there’s no way to fill the hole - just the ability to put a cover over it and try to keep walking without twisting an ankle. 

Do I wish Philip was here? With every piece of my heart. Do I wish we had more time to refill the well? Of course. 

But he’s not. And we don’t. 

And that is grief. 

At Christmas I did an 8 minute solo mid-sermon. Yes 8 minutes. I rewrote the words (every single word) of “American Pie” and made them from Mary’s perspective of carrying Jesus. For the most part, it was pretty hilarious. That is until I go to the last verse. In the actual song, Don McLean slows the song down and changes the entire mood, yet still ends on a peaceful note - a note that sounds a lot like stage 5 of grief. 

In my Grammy Award deserving version, Mary outlined all that Jesus would do and got excited for the life ahead of him. She talked about being a humble teenage mom to be, Jesus making friends, helter skelter in a makeshift shelter, Jesus giving us the rock the rolls and how he’ll save our mortal souls (and he’ll teach us how to pray reeeaaaal sloooooow)... but the ending was different. And I drew the inspiration by thinking of Philip growing up. 

“Oh my son, there is work to do,

but right now I’ll just hold you 

before your grow and no longer play.

I will teach you how to speak

and in turn you’ll deliver me.

But for now I’ll treasure this special day.

And to God I am thankful

though some parts will be painful.

I will hold your hand,

carry you when you can’t stand.

And when this world drags you down,

as your mom I’ll be around.

My sweet boy, hope is always found

The day of Christmas ride”

Parts were and are painful. But I am still so thankful that I had the chance to hold you, Philip, and watch you play (and to play with you), to see you grow and to treasure those special days. I wish time could have stood still that December afternoon, but just like my cheesy song says, hope is always found.

Though my well feels like it has run dry, I look forward to that day when our hope is restored fully and our wells never run dry again. 

As your cousin, I’ll be around. 

Rest well Phil, you’ll need it. I plan for us to pick up right where we left off when the day finally comes for us to see one another again.