4 Months: Am I Happy?

 Friends, 

For a while now, I’ve felt the rumblings of a happening, primed for when I sat to write. But for so long, this writing was a tool to cope with searing pain… I’m tired of that. I’ve stayed away, and cooked and baked instead. What a haven, my bright kitchen, a place to heal and hide, a month or two of respite: quiet, wordless, lived-in time.   

Have I told you I once asked God to explain the need for chores? Lol I searched His words for “routine” and “monotony” and “diapers”… I was a young mom then, and feeling lost in all the tiny tasks that filled my every day. Where was the cosmic purpose?! Lol I didn’t find an answer then- I shrugged and washed more clothes. But now?! After an epic struggle with the cosmos every day, small chores restore my tired soul. Cooking and cleaning, work and weeding, they’re the tangible balm for the intangible battles we fight every day. At last, a problem I can solve!! The dishes! The back yard! And so it’s been. I’ve soaked it in. And now, I’m here again.  

One of the reasons I’ve resisted writing again is that it requires an audience. Blogging, especially. I write and I imagine you there, reading. Living. Carrying your own burdens. There are so many burdens… And I haven’t been ready to see them again. To try to speak to them… Because inadvertently, we may have become a mascot for injustice, grief, and pain. It is a sacred honor to stand in that corner, but words feel small next to the hurt you bring into this space.  But tonight, I guess I just really needed you and me to know that there is living after death and loss. That grief can cede to joy. That miracles in timing, healing, and heaven, are available through covenants, Christ’s best tool for administering His infinite grace.  

 

Remember, Hyrum’s safe now.  

He’s not hurting anymore.  

The pain I felt at watching him with cancer? 

Nevermore.  

There’s no more shots. No hair loss.  

No more tumor. He can walk.  

There’s no more giant hospitals  

dividing us. He talks.  

I’ll never see him hungry.  

Never watch him fight to drink.  

Those days are GONE.  

They’re GONE. He’s free.  

I’m free…  

and that’s okay, I think.  

 

For months now, God is showing me 

the way this life could go.  

“This works when you are hurting.”  

“Keep using what you know.”  

And many, many moments,  

I feel Hyrum in our space.  

In memories and feelings,  

or a vision of his face.  

In butterflies and robins,  

Caleb’s gestures, late-night dreams.  

Forever, for our family,  

is closer than it seems.  

 

And shockingly, I’m happy.  

More so than I’ve dared to say.  

And Hyrum wants us happy, 

so I’ll let it be that way.  

Already, I am laughing  

like I never did before.  

Ironic and irreverent, that  

death made me love life more. 

 

It’s not just that I’m healing  

or that time has been my friend.  

No. Something else is happening  

and I cannot pretend  

that I am just resilient,  

well-supported, or naïve. 

I heal, feel joy, have Hyrum near- 

because, dear, I believe.  

 

I’m telling you: heaven is real. 

I’ve seen it. It is there.  

But I could not have touched it  

had my soul not been prepared.  

The bond I made with heaven 

in His temple glimmers now. 

It warms and wakes my shadowed soul.  

My covenant: that’s how.  

 

I love you friends. Thank you for checking in with me and with Michael. 

 

Always yours,  

Erica Joy