It is exceptionally hard to process joy and heartbreak at the same time.
I discovered something new about life this week. Our hearts don't seem to care that emotions are supposed to stay neatly organized, rather than jumbled up in an unexplainable mess.
Brad and I are counting down the sleeps to our last few special days on our daughter's graduation trip before we send her off to college. I am unbelievably proud of this gorgeous young woman. Watching her grow into the person she has become has been one of the greatest privileges of my life, and I am even more excited for her future than I could ever put into words. She's going to do amazing things, Y'all!
At the same time, I am worried. I am a worrier. I've always been a worrier. I come by it naturally (thanks, Grandpa Gary Hall!). My brain has a remarkable ability to imagine every possible scenario, most of which will never happen. Sending your child off into the world has a way of waking up every one of those thoughts, no matter how much you trust them or how hard you work to suppress your fears.
This week, those feelings have become even harder for me to sort through. 💔
The small community that holds a massive piece of my heart is grieving the unimaginable. Two incredible young adults lost their lives in a tragic car accident, while another continues to fight for his.
I simply have no words. Try as I might, I am struggling to think of anything else. My heart aches for their parents, their families, their friends, and an entire community trying to process something that does not make sense. Bayard is a place where people don't just know each other - they genuinely and deeply love each other. When something like this happens, everyone carries a piece of the pain.
I'm sure I'm not alone in asking questions that don't seem to have any good answers. Why do good people leave us far too soon? Why do families have to endure heartbreak that no parent should ever have to experience? How are we supposed to trust that everything happens for a reason when some things feel so unbelievable unfair?
I don't have those answers. If I'm being completely honest, I don't even know if answers to those questions would make me feel better or worse.
I do know one thing. This tragedy has made me even more determined to soak up every single moment of this trip with our girl. We are going to laugh a little harder, stay up a little later, take way too many pictures, and probably embarrass her with more deep genuine bear hugs than she wants. She's absolutely going to roll her eyes at us a few times, but I'm ok with that.
We will make every moment count because we've been painfully reminded that we never know when a hug may be our last.
None of us knows which vacation becomes our favorite memory, which goodbye turns into "see you later", or which ordinary Tuesday ends up being anything but ordinary.
We spend so much of our lives assuming there will be another opportunity...another visit...another holiday...another phone call...another hug. Thankfully, most of the time there is.
As we prepare to send our girl off on this next chapter of her life, I am choosing to hold her a little tighter, tell her I love her a few extra times, make sure she knows how unbelievably proud of her I am, and be incredibly grateful that we get this special time together.
My heart is celebrating and grieving all at once. It turns out, there is room for both.
If you're the praying type, I ask you to please keep the Bayard community in your prayers over the coming weeks, especially the families who are navigating unimaginable losses. There are no words that can make this better, but I firmly believe there is comfort in knowing others are lifting you up when you need it most.
Hold your people a little tighter today. You never know how much a hug might mean...or when it will be your last. 💔
