March 4th, Again and Again
February 28, 2023 — Laura House
As we approach Nathan’s seventh Heaven Day this weekend, I wanted to write a post to share. But when I looked at last year’s post, I realized that it communicated exactly what I still wanted to say. So, I’m repurposing this post, and hope that there will be something in it that encourages you.
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When a special event is imminent, we often look forward to it with exhilarating anticipation. It’s hard to put it out of our heads and the details of what is to come intrude into our thoughts and schedules. We think about the upcoming event when we wake and we dream about it when we sleep.
This is especially true for our children. The anticipation of a Christmas, a birthday, a special family event, etc. causes them to constantly ask for a timeline. How many more days? How many more sleeps? Why does it take so long to get here!?
However, there are other dates that are anticipated without the excitement and are even more disruptive to our thoughts. Our family is anticipating a date that seems to be arriving too soon this year, March 4th — Nathan’s Heaven Day. It’s the day he left earthly life and entered into the presence of Jesus. It’s the day that he was reunited with my Mom, Gary’s brother, and since then, Gary’s Dad, and so many more who have gone on ahead.
But I’m glad it’s not Nathan’s “first” Heaven day. For a bereaved parent, the “first” time for every event without their child feels brutal — the separation and the empty seats are so pronounced and grief pervades every aspect of their lives. Some people think that the intensity only applies to Heaven days, birthdays, holidays, and “special” events, but that’s not accurate. Amazingly, it’s every day. There was a “first” time to have Skyline Chili with little oyster crackers, Nathan’s favorite; a first time to eat other foods that he liked; and a first time to hear songs that he listened to on the radio. Without even trying, there are glimpses of him everywhere, so poignantly painful that first year. Books, computers, techy things, motorcycles, beaches, airplanes, gray hoodies, robotics kits, Golden Retrievers, business magazines, iPhones, SUVs, … the list is endless. For a newly bereaved parent, everywhere they look, they “see” their child.
Thankfully, the first year doesn’t last forever. I’m grateful for the moment that I recognized that my mourning had turned from constant pain to specific moments of grief and that when I thought of Nathan, I genuinely experienced joy and deep gratitude for his life. No longer did I dwell on “how” he died, but I was filled with thanksgiving for the privilege of being his mom for twenty-five years — a quarter of a century. If you are a newly bereaved parent, please be encouraged that there will come a time when you will view pictures and videos with wistful joy and genuine gratitude, not the crippling pain that you feel right now.
Although subsequent years each bring on new emotions, different for every grieving mom and dad, the “missing them” part becomes stronger. The longer we’re separated from them, the more we miss them. At first, this fact surprised me, but now it makes logical sense. And for some reason, this year is taking on an increased amount of intense “missing him” feelings for us.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m still filled with gratitude that God chose me to be his mom and that I had so many years with him. I’m also thankful that he is no longer in pain, and that he is where I look forward to residing for eternity. But for all bereaved parents, there will always be “missing” and always some moments of grief because of the deep bond of love that God created between a parent and child. And some years, days, or hours, will hold more “missing” than others.
So what do we plan to do this year on March 4? We’ll spend time together as a family, as we’ve done every year — and we’ll miss Nathan. We’ll watch family videos, look at pictures, and talk — and we’ll miss Nathan. But in the midst of all the missing, we’ll also be thankful — so very, very, thankful, for the precious relationships that we had with him here.
And in the middle of being thankful, the most important fact that we’ll be grateful for is that this separation is completely temporary. We know how this story ends! One day, in the not-so-distant future, we won’t have to miss him anymore.
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John 14:1-3 “Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms; if that were not so, I would have told you, because I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I am coming again and will take you to Myself, so that where I am, there you also will be.”
