I Miss, I Hurt, I Love

Dear Mark ~

 I miss your hugs.

 I miss your love for others.

 I miss your smile.

 I miss your enthusiasm for life.

 I miss your voice.

I miss you being in the family picture.

I miss you.

I still hurt when I watch a movie where someone dies.  The pains I felt from your death come racing back into my mind like wild horses.  They go this way and that way, completely out of control.  Some overwhelm me, some scare me, some are more intense than others, but always there to remind me you are not here with us anymore.

After seven years I still want to scream at God, "WHY?! Why didn't You show Mark more of Your love?"

I want to scream at Mom and Dad, "Why didn't you protect him?"

But mostly I want to yell at myself, "Why didn't you call Mark more often?" "Why didn't you care more?"  "Why didn't you love more?"  "Why did you fail him, Karen?"

Then I stop and I chase those stupid wild thoughts of my head.  I refuse to let the devil use your death to hurt me anymore.  I refuse to blame anyone for this.  I refuse to be destroyed.

Instead....

I love.

I love my life.

I love my husband and kids.

I love my parents.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

I love my enemies.

I pray for everyone who has hurt me.

I pray for those I have hurt.

I pray for those who have dealt with suicide.

I love unreserved.

I remind myself that after seven years without you, Mark, I still wouldn't ask God for you back.  I count the numerous times that your death has made me a better person.  

I never look at a teenage boy without praying for him.  I see now how the weight of the world bears down on them more than I ever saw before your death.  

I look at my bad days and realize they aren't that bad.  

I see the sunset with grateful eyes for day well-spent. 

I watch the birds in our yard with greater appreciation for God's beauty in creation.  

I listen to the rain with the understanding that God takes care of all of us, from the holiest person to the lowly plant. 

 I will always attribute these moments to the fact that your death shook my very being into a more observant and compassionate person.

I treasure the moments we've had as a family more than ever in the last seven years.  We've grown closer together, though still have our problems as all families do.  I like to think that you, Mark, inspired our family to love more, forgive often, and give of ourselves unselfishly.  That is a precious gift.

I marvel at what our family has created at the Mark Park.  How they share it with so many without thinking twice.  How they take time out of their lives to make other people's lives matter.  How they help keep memories alive and dreams come true.

This is Papa on July 4th just after 5:30 AM.  It is a picture of him under the casket flag of Great Uncle Leo Bestgen.  It has not been displayed or flown since his funeral in 1943. Our family (and some amazing cousins) made this memorial happen at your park, Mark.  The park we wouldn't have created without your death.  The park that brings others such joy and happiness.  Where loved ones are remembered, the scars of pain are healed, and happy memories are built.

So while I want to scream all those things above, I also want to quietly say....

"Thank you, God, for Your love and healing grace."

"Thank you, Mom, for giving Mark life, raising him, and for trusting in God when Mark died."

"Thank you, Dad, for holding our family together, for never giving up, for being a rock (ha ha) to lean on, for the hugs and God bless you's, for the example that no matter what crosses God gives us we can carry it and become better people because of it."

"Thank you, me, for being honest with yourself.  Now, forgive yourself, wipe the tears away, and face today like every other day."

Mark - pray for us.

Love and falling tears,

Your big sister