By Sharon (SD) Mac
The day after Steve went home was his father’s funeral.
I hadn’t slept all night. My body was running on shock; my spirit was holding on by a thread. Morning came, and I knew what I had to do. I got up, packed my car with everything I had accumulated during those long hospital months, and got ready to drive back to Waco.
The drive felt unreal…too quiet, too slow. I passed the roads where Steve and I used to ride our bikes. Every turn whispered his name. The air felt thick with silence, the kind that feels like God Himself is speaking. I could almost hear Him saying, “Be still.”
Still — when my world had stopped moving.
Still — when nothing made sense.
Still — because even in pain, God is there.
I pulled into my brother-in-law’s hotel, waited for the girls to get ready, and then we headed to the funeral home. Everyone was already there, waiting for us.
It was surreal…two generations of loss, one soul already in heaven greeting another. I kept hearing Steve’s joking voice in my head saying, “Represent, Babe.” I tried. I smiled, I spoke, I hugged people. I was there, but I don’t think I was present.
After the service, went to my sister-in-law’s house, talked business than I drove home alone.
When I reached the gate to our subdivision, time seemed to slow. Tears blurred my vision as I turned down our street. Every house, every tree, every yard held a memory. When I pulled into the driveway and opened the garage, I saw them…our bikes, leaning side by side.
I got out of the truck, fell down on my knees in front of the garage on my driveway and started crying. (didn’t even make it inside the garage). I could hear my dogs barking in the background, but yet the deafening sound of silence and knowing he’s gone, was louder than the noise around me.
Those bikes would never be ridden by him again. Above them hung our fishing poles on the rack, untouched, waiting. I sat there on the cold concrete and cried until I couldn’t breathe. I don’t know how long I stayed like that — maybe an hour or two — before I could finally stand.
I opened the door and was greeted by Princeton, Bailey and Mariah. They jumped on me, tails wagging, then turned toward the door, waiting for him.
“Daddy is gone…He’s not coming back,” I whispered.
And somehow, they understood. Their excitement quieted; they pressed against me, one by one, as if to say, “Then we’ll stay with you.” They didn’t leave my side.
I sat in his chair…his spot in the living room… for hours.
Eventually I went to our bedroom, and it felt… different. Sad and hollow all at once. I looked at his side of the bed, then at the shower where I could still smell his fragrance. I told myself to get ready for bed, but my body couldn’t do it.
I walked back to the living room and sat down in his chair again. Somehow it felt like he was hugging me.
That’s where I fell asleep…in his chair, wrapped in the quiet, the dogs curled at my feet, the scent of his after shave still in the air.
The world was silent.
And in that silence, I heard it again…the same voice I’d heard on the road, the same whisper that steadied me when everything else fell apart:
“Be still.”
Even here, even now, it is well with my soul…
Soli Deo Gloria!
To God Alone be the Glory
“Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” -2Timothy 2:3
“Resolved, never to give over, nor in the least to slacken, my fight with my corruptions, however unsuccessful I may be.” -Jonathan Edwards, Resolution, 56
Leave a Reply