Griefshot

Someone I loved very much died yesterday, and I am griefshot within.

Her smile was captivating, infectious, effervescent.

I’ll miss her smile.

She was a godly woman; she loved Jesus fiercely, faithfully filling her cup with Him each morning, then walking and talking with Him throughout the day giving thanks each night. I am thankful for the example of her life, that she lived her life in front of me.

I’ll miss being sharpened by her life.

She consistently showed up for me. She opened the doors of their home to me after the transplant, after my mother’s death when I was weary and worn in desperate need of gentleness, lovingkindness, and compassion.

I’ll miss her hospitality, her gentleness, her lovingkindness, her compassion.

Her ears were listening ears; she heard what I was saying; she cared about what I was saying. She didn’t judge my words, my feelings, my heart; she listened, heard, loved, and prayed.

I’ll miss her ears, her prayers.

She knew me, my heart; she loved me anyway.

I’ll miss being known, her love.

And then, there are her hugs, oh her hugs, there isn’t a hug quite like hers.

Yeah, I’ll miss her hugs.

Someone I loved died yesterday, and though she may be out of my sight, she is not out of my heart.