I know it will

Eden loves to play with her Mommy's  iPhone. I sometimes answer phone calls from Cara only to be greeted by silence and then, "baba dada buhbuh?" "Hi, Eden," I say, "Give your Mommy the phone."

The other day, I texted Cara that I'd just posted a new blog entry. She replied, "Jj nrbbrgvt. Djdja."

Then, this:

"That was from Eden. It says she's sorry you're angry, hurt, bitter. She says she knows peace will come again and that God will hold you while you hurt. She hurts for you and it makes her cry. She really wishes she was there to give you a hug. The last part says that she will hold onto hope with you. I told her to dry her tears but you know she's just like her mama."

It made me bawl.

I attended my first social event without Darren tonight. It was an annual thing - something we do together every year without fail. Something we look forward to and make plans for. I almost didn't go, but changed my mind at the last minute. I thought it would be good for me. It mostly wasn't. It was a brutal reminder of all that I'm losing. So many of our friends are couples, and suddenly I was the odd man out. I know I'm not the only single friend they have, but ... tonight I just felt so alone. I sense that people feel uncomfortable when they see me. They know the situation because the grapevine is nothing if not swift, but they don't know what to say, so they don't say anything. Then there are those who don't know anything and want to know where Darren is. To the first three, I simply said he was hanging out with the boys. To the last two, I said, "We're separated." The usual shock and disbelief followed. One of the ladies shed tears for me. I kept mine in check. I was afraid the dam would break if I didn't.

And later, it did. On the phone with Abbie, I wept and sputtered words out between the gasps of air that come with sobbing. I couldn't believe I was back in this place of deep, intense grief. I know peace will come again and that God is holding me while I hurt. I know it will.