May 22nd, 2023

Today is the day I will see his face for the last time here on this earth. There is an earnest fear in this. I want to remember him the way he is supposed to look, with this beautiful smile on his face and the look that always told me that no matter who had come before, there would be none, ever after, and that really, I was always the only one, the one he’d been searching for all that time. He always knew the same of me and we talked about how we had discovered that, at one time, we were in the same football stadium at the same time and wished we had crossed paths then.

I don’t want to remember him the way he will look today. But 𝘩𝘰𝘸 can I 𝘯𝘰𝘵 see him one more time, knowing this is the last time I can ever look at him? How can it be the last time? I cannot understand how this happened, how my healthy, perfect husband’s soul is no longer in the same world as mine.

Sure, there are wonderful photographs. We took a lot of pictures together but I wish there were more. And yet the photographs cannot wrap his arms around me, cannot kiss me goodnight, or hello, or just because.

Tomorrow is the day we will “bring closure” with a memorial service. We will have a slide show to represent his life but you cannot properly represent Scott in 100 pictures. You can’t even truly represent him in photographs because he was larger than life but in a quiet way.

Now, Scott could talk your ear off. I sometimes would walk out to the yard after he had been talking to the lawn guy or the cable repair man, or the person walking their dog and gently suggest he come back inside because they probably had other things they needed to do and I didn’t want anyone to get into trouble. But then many times they’d still stand and talk longer because Scott never met a stranger. They were already fast friends and enjoying their chat.

But he still had a quiet thoughtfulness. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes, never understanding how people could be ugly to one another because he was all kindness and soft-hearted. He was hurt so much more in this life than he would ever have given back because people would take advantage of his gentleness. Don’t ever forget that your candle will never glow brighter by the action of extinguishing the candle of someone else.

Scott isn’t here anymore. I keep trying to convince myself. At the same time I try to convince myself he is on a travel assignment and will FaceTime me soon. That doesn’t work for long. Yet even though he is not here, his light is here. His gentleness. His grace in all circumstances, even over and over again for those who did not deserve it. He lived like Jesus in that way, always believing that people could turn around and redeem themselves even though some constantly hurt him and never did change. It made me angry, not at him but for him.

Today will be the last time I see his face. I saw him after it was all over on the 10th and I know he doesn’t look the way he should because this didn’t happen the way it should have. Life turned on a dime and left me floundering in this abyss of grief and loss. But I will see him today for the last time until I see him again. And I know it will break open the hurt that keeps trying to hide underneath the beginnings of a scab, of scars that will keloid and never fade. I miss you, baby, so much. 💔