A Week and Two Days

There's a pit in my stomach. Sickly, nauseating, churning, pit in my stomach. A feeling reminiscent of my first time in summer camp away from my parents. Homesickness. I haven't felt it in years. I've spent the morning keeping myself busy with the mundane tasks of laundry and cleaning, trying to pick up where I left off over a week ago. Over a week ago, when you were still alive and my mind danced around ideas of future plans, awaiting the next time I would get to hear your voice or see you again.

Now, there's this pit in my stomach that makes swallowing difficult. This pit in my stomach that has me gasping for air as the tears stream down my face. The sadness comes in waves and crashes in without warning. Although I know all the intellectual and spiritual arguments I am still that little girl yearning for her home afraid of: the dark, the quiet, the stillness, when loneliness creeps it's way into my camp. My mind still angry, throws itself on the floor screaming, "I won't believe it! It's not fair!!!" beating it's fists on the floor. "How is this possible!!!"

Pushing through seems impossible, yet I try to remind myself that this sadness will become less and less and that somehow, someway this is all part of The Plan. The problem is what will I be left with? What am I supposed to do with all of this? I wish I somehow knew what would be at the end of this. Why must I endure this? Why take away this gift?

It is inconceivable to me that you are gone. The sadness is beyond any words created to express it. All I have is this pit in my stomach, my memories of you, and my hope in faith that somehow this will all make sense someday.

Someday when I am no longer homesick for you.