This Thursday, the 31st will be Rachel’s birthday. It would be her 38th if she were still here on Earth; her 7th birthday spent in Heaven. I don’t know if birthdays are celebrated in Heaven. There is no passage of time in eternity. And every day is a celebration in the presence of God.
But my children’s birthdays are special to me. The dates on which I brought each of these two beautiful people into the world are etched on my heart. Their childhood milestones of first words, first steps, first tooth, first date, first prom. . . All these memories bring a smile to my face. With my older daughter, sweet memories keep being made. I get the joy of watching her excel at motherhood and seeing the wonderful individuals her four children are growing in to.
The memories made with Rachel stopped two months after her wedding in 2017. So, I cling to every single one. I write about them so I can refresh my own memory as I get older. And so that her legacy isn’t lost.
I also write to help encourage other hurting hearts. I want other bereaved parents to know that there is hope, even in our grief, as Paul assured the church in Thessalonica (1 Thessalonians 4:13). That we will always bear the scars of deep mourning, but our wounds are badges of honor for carrying the weight of loss. Every time we share the stories of our children with each other, we keep their memory alive in our hearts and minds until we are reunited.
I write to remind us to reach out whether it’s to ask for a comforting hand or offer one. To say our children’s names out loud. To slow our pace so others on the path behind us can catch up. Because the walk is easier if we walk together.
I’m still here writing about grief, about hope, about God’s mercy and grace. I’m still here writing about my daughter. Because she’s not. Still here.
Laura
A Light for My Path 
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