#18 Months

Is it strange that I count the months you’ve been gone in the same way that parents count the months of an infant child’s life? Each month, as time slips by, I can’t believe we’ve made it this far without you here.

Yet, if the pattern holds true, I’ll stop counting the months soon. Just a few more months and we will likely start referencing your absence in years — should anyone ask how long it’s been.

No matter how or if I express the breadth of your absence on any given day, I always know exactly how long it’s been …

because losing a child is nothing like having a child.

To watch your child grow is the ultimate privilege. Fully in awe of the miracle, you instinctively know that he or she is a gift and you celebrate the milestones, month by month, and then year after year.

When there is life, this formula is sustainable. It propels you forward.

When there is death, this formula is difficult to sustain.

For 18 months, I have quite literally been walking with my head turned in the opposite direction … looking backwards.

If I continue this formula, I fear it will sink me.

So, where do I go from here?

Is it possible to stop focusing on the distance between the last breath you took on earth to today? It will not be easy.

Is there a way to fully move forward while embracing the past?

Only when I remember that you are not only our past, but you are also our future — you’re already there, waiting for all of us.

And the time we will spend together in the future is going to be far, far, far longer than the time we spent together here on earth.

However, until the day comes when we are together again, there will undoubtedly continue to be waves of tears and sadness, as we operate with the remnants of our broken hearts. That is a given.

But it’s time for my paradigm shift. It’s what you would want for me and sometimes I can hear you encouraging me on! “Common mama, you can do it!”

With God’s help, I can look forward with hope and not backwards with regret and hopelessness.

One day, we will turn the page and find ourselves in the longest chapter of our lives, the one called “Eternity,” when we will be gathered to Christ and reunited with you and all who we know and love in heaven.

Each day, each month, and each year that passes here on earth brings me one day closer to seeing you again.

And, THAT is worthy of a countdown.

#18 Months closer to seeing you again.


James 4:14 (NKJV) 14 whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.

8 thoughts on “#18 Months

  1. Thank you for sharing this Sherrie. I think there will always be a little of both for me. But with practice and grace maybe our hearts will accept the now, and hold tighter to the future instead of staying stuck in the past.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I’m at 26 months but say 2 years. It sucks. I know. Feels like yesterday so sometimes I just say my daughter died. With no reference to your long. It’s understood that the missing is there. Hugs.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Making that turn from constantly looking backward, to focusing my eyes forward, has been, and still is, the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. After 27 months, it is still hard, but I find that every once in a while I am able to experience a vague sense of happy, excited anticipation of our future reunion with Hans. I am hoping the strength of this feeling will increase as time goes by. I still wake up in the morning and say to myself, “One day closer”. I can’t wait till we all meet in glory – as the hymn goes, “What a gathering that will be!”

    Liked by 1 person

  4. It brought endless tears reading your post Sherrie. Thank you
    for sharing. You are an amazing woman.
    And yes, Ian would be very happy for you to live to the fullest and continue to smile for him. 💜

    Liked by 1 person

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