You never know when a wave of grief will wash over you. It hit me at an extremely odd place today. I was in the parking lot of Kohl's, walking to my car after returning an item when I heard something so seemingly ordinary, yet it caused an outburst of emotion. An older gentlemen was standing by his car talking on his cell phone and said the following, "OK, I'll be watching for you." Can't count the number of times Dennis and I said those very words, or ones very similar, to one another on numerous occasions. He worked several nights a week at Evangel with his work study students. We would have an event to attend or just a quick run somewhere for a bite to eat and I would swing by Evangel to pick him up. Before the appointed time, one of us would call the other to check on location and possible delays. He would leave the second floor where his office was to meet me out front and would always end the call with, "I'll be watching for you." He or I would say those words when trying to meet up at the mall, while on vacation, with friends, at Silver Dollar City or most anywhere. Didn't really ever give those words much thought, it was just a way of connecting back up after a separation. Oh the words that are spoken out of habit that we don't come to treasure until it's too late to hear them again from the people we love.
After listening to the man in the parking lot utter those words, realized that never again on this earth would I hear Dennis say those words to me. It was heartbreaking! You know what though? There isn't a day that goes by I'm not searching the parking lot, crowd of people, cars passing by to look for Dennis. When I pass Evangel, my eyes immediately go to the Administration Building parking lot to look for his black Expedition with the expectation that surely it will be there this time. When passing other cars, I turn my head to check out the occupants. At any function such as a basketball game or play on the Evangel campus I am scrutinizing the crowd, seeking a glimpse of those beautiful brown eyes, ready smile and familiar features that seem to be more elusive as each day passes. When I pass by his pool table downstairs or walk through this house where so many happy memories took place, and find him absent, it causes absolute anguish and desolation. We did so many things together, were so connected that almost anywhere I go an awareness and consciousness of him is there. When going to church, I picture him beside me in the car on the way, singing hymns together, his rich beautiful voice ringing out to harmonize with my barely in tune one. I envision him beside me in class, beside me in the church service and can almost feel the touch of his hand as it holds mine and the warmth of his skin as I curl my arm through his. The crowd is inspected as my gaze sweeps across that massive sanctuary, hoping against hope that he is merely conversing with old and new friends and will soon be by my side. Dennis, I'm watching for you.
Can't help but think about how Dennis would be traveling this road called grief. I think he would be a much better model, knowing that the Lord is always there- in the bad times as well as the good. He would be so aware of God's faithfulness and His promises that we can cling to in the midst of the raging storm. I really am trying, but it seems as I drive ahead, the winds clutch at me and blow me back BUT forward I venture, one step at a time. Thank you precious friends and family for your ardent prayers on my behalf. Your faithful obedience has touched God's heart. There is no way to know for sure what Dennis' thoughts were in those last moments of his life except to feel absolutely certain that he was anticipating being in God's very presence. I also sense that he unquestionably tried to convey this message to me in those final moments, "Teena, I'll be watching for you."
No comments:
Post a Comment