I went for a run this morning. My good Lord above it was hot. Sweat rolling down my face and and heart pounding. The sun was shining directly into my face and then it hit me like tidal wave. It was seven years ago today that we buried Momma. It’s usually June 30th that consumes me and takes my breath away since that was the day she left us… But today I couldn’t help but remember the three days that followed. The three days that tried my soul, sanity, and faith. So without even fighting it, I slowed my pace to a walk and let it all in…

I often refer to those days as limbo. The span of time that feels like an eternity, but also too damn soon to have to say goodbye. Those few days where we eat our feelings and go through old photos. We take long showers giving our swollen eyes a break from tissues and visitors. We scream out and demand answers from the God that gave… and has now taken away…

We drive to funeral homes to pick out caskets and urns. We fake smiles and drink the ice water they bring you. We fill out paperwork, sign release forms, and collect a bag that contains the last clothes they would ever wear. We leave, we go home, and collapse in their favorite chair, or run to the dryer hoping to find their favorite shirt. Anything that still looks like them or smells like them will suffice at this point. Anything… An ashtray, a blanket, or even a mop bucket that still smells like bleach.

We wash dishes left in the sink, sweep the floors, and relish in their scent when we crawl into their bed. We sit in their cars, hit steering wheels, and listen to their favorite music.

We show up. We hug, we cry, and wail when that one person comes through the receiving line who just gets it… gets you…

We gather with close family and kiss them and touch them as they close the lid on the precious face we’ll never see again on this earth.

We walk into standing rooms and take our seats while they say the usual. The things we already know. They play their favorite songs and you squeeze the hands of loved ones next to you as the tears literally burn your cheeks.

We ride in long lines to their final resting place. We sit under green tents and watch as they place them in front of us. We get weak in the knees and grip the sides of a cold gray box that holds everything we want back.

We go back to work, lay our head on our desk, and withdraw. We go through the rinse and repeat motions of daily life without them and question our faith.

We honestly refuse to believe it. We go numb and push our anger back to God. A God who understands what this hell is like. A God who went though it for us.

We adjust. We become stronger and grow in empathy. We become the people that people call when it happens to them. We’re the first ones who show up to embrace the screams of “why”, while holding a rotisserie chicken and a box of thank you cards.

Limbo is hell. It’s the not knowing, and knowing everything all at once. It’s knowing what has to be done when you have no strength or want to do it.

We landed here for a reason.

Time doesn’t heal… Jesus does.