Without a Word_ How a Boy's Unspoken Love Changed Everything - Jill Kelly [83]
Jim smiled and laughed. “Oh yeah, you’re right.”
He’ll turn fifty in less than six months. I’ve got him by ten years (actually, only nine as of today)—but I’ll always be younger and will never stop reminding him.
As Cam was leaving for school this morning she begged me to dance the limbo under one of the decorative, sparkly fortieth-birthday things hanging in our kitchen. (You thought I was kidding about the circus acts.) Reluctantly, I did the limbo. I did it over and over and over again. Camryn and I laughed the laugh that hurts your stomach and makes your jaw sore.
Before she walked out the door she grabbed both my arms and said, “Mom, I need to give you forty kisses before I leave, four real ones and one in the air for the zero in forty.” Of course, we kissed four times and once to the air between our two faces. She is such a cool kid! Her personality liberates my soul.
She ran out the door, but after a few seconds burst back in after forgetting her drink for school. Jim was beeping the horn because he hates being late. I should have gone outside and made him do the limbo….
It was another typical morning at the Kelly household.
Or was it?
Exactly a year ago today we signed papers to buy the house we now live in, the house Jim and I still can’t believe we own. After we moved, a few of my friends asked me how the transition went. I guess they assumed it would be hard to leave the house all three of our children grew up in; the house that Hunter lived in his entire life. Oddly and thankfully, the transition was incredibly smooth. I don’t miss our old house at all—evidence that God is still at work in healing my broken heart.
So today is my fortieth birthday.
And it’s been 1,496 days since I held Hunter’s hand, looked into his gorgeous green eyes, and told him, “I love you, little buddy.” It’s been that long since he raised his cute eyebrows and blinked back three times. But I’m also 1,496 days closer to seeing his beautiful face again, to hearing him talk for the first time and feeling him wrap his arms around my neck.
The gift of Hunter’s life will continue to astound me for as long as I live. Through Hunter, God made death a fearless passage. He taught us to look to our next life with a longing that only He can bestow. We have an eternity with Hunter waiting for us.
Every passing day is one day closer to that glorious reunion. One day closer to heaven. One day closer to the One who paints the stars in the sky and teaches the sparrows how to fly. The One who holds me right now and waits to hold me for forever.
So I celebrate and cry today. Not because I’m no longer in my thirties, but because I’m here. The yearning I have for heaven has to balance out the yearning I have to stay in this temporary life and be the best mother and wife I can be. I have an amazing family and great friends. These people all deserve to see my zest for life—this beautiful gift of life on earth that I have with them. I pray that my joy and hopes for tomorrow are reflected in my relationships today.
Wait… how can I have a passion for anything at all when my boy isn’t here? He’s gone. But tomorrow I will be 1,497 days closer to him, remember? It baffles the mind, but I know it’s true. I want every single minute of my life to count for something greater than I can fully comprehend, as Hunter’s did.
The question before me is, “What will I do with the time I have left, knowing that every breath is a gift?”
Will I cry sometimes? Absolutely. Will I want to hide in bed some mornings? Probably. Will I possibly dance around and do the limbo to make my children laugh so that I can laugh? Of course I will. But it’s all right because everything’s going to be okay—right now and forever. Plain and simple… I was blind but now I see.
Jim has a birthday dinner planned for tonight with my family, and he