I miss her... and that's okay

I miss the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

I miss her crooked smile and her one dimple.

I miss her freckles.

I miss waking her up late at night to watch movies and talk to me when I can't sleep.

I miss hearing her voice on the other end of the phone, on the verge of tears, praying for her friends who are searching but choosing everything but Jesus.

I miss the way she was never emotional, angry, or dramatic.. she was "just PASSIONATE!"

I miss driving to Alamance Crossing with her to buy sunglasses and stop for cheeseburgers, before driving home with the music up and windows down. 

I miss the way she would walk into our room, begging me to fix her makeup or straighten her hair because "all the things! they're not working right!" 

I miss the way she would move her hands like she was playing scales on her saxophone when she was feeling stressed or self-conscious.

I miss the way her face lit up when she walked into a room of children.

I miss comparing our arms to see who got tanner during the summer.

I miss going on get-aways with her.

I miss the way she sang way too loud in the car and always felt the need to harmonize.

I miss the way she would let me talk her into doing anything.

I miss the way Specter flipped out a little anytime she was around. 

I miss the way she couldn't lie or hide anything to save her life.

I miss arguing with her about whose turn it was to turn off the light at night.

I miss watching her edit pictures.

I miss the way her camera was always in her hand, around her neck, or in the chair next to her.

I miss laughing with her about nothing in particular until I'm crying and she's coughing like she smokes 3 packs a day.

I miss the way she flared her nostrils when she was mad.

I miss all of these things, and easily a million more. I just miss her. 

But you know what? Tonight... I can somehow miss her, and at the same time, smile while thinking about all the things I miss about her. I can laugh when I think of her harmonizing in the car, and completely butchering the tune. I can roll my eyes at all the memories of the ridiculous things she would say when she was upset. They make no more sense now than they did then! 

I don't want to avoid all of the things that make me think of her. But that doesn't mean I want to replace them or forget, either. 

I drove to Alamance Crossing alone on Saturday... and I missed her. But I was okay.

I took kids to "our park" this afternoon... and I wished she was there, too. But I was okay. 

I'm going out of town this weekend with my best friends. The last time we went somewhere, she and her best friend were there, too... and I know I'll think of them the entire time I'm gone. But I'll be okay. 

I know that there's a good chance that Sunday will roll around, it will somehow be 8 months since she died, it will knock the wind out of me all over again, and I'll be thrown back into square one. 

But today... today I have hope. And the hope I have today makes me hopeful that tomorrow will be okay, too. And maybe even the next day. 

And I have hope that maybe, just maybe, my God didn't abandon me in the middle of all of this, after all.