As the calendar turns cheerfully to autumn, my heart feels as dry and withered as the leaves
outside the kitchen door. The open refrigerator reminds me there’s no need to buy extra eggs.
Today, there will be no special breakfast, no cards, no presents to open.
The dog paws at the door, and we go for a walk. A bass jumps in the pond, and I follow the
ripples to the bank. I look up and long to see him there, fly rod in hand. Grief tightens its fist
around me, and I cry, praying for comfort—yet still holding to a hope that refuses to be
extinguished. The hope of heaven. The promise of life eternal.
The road behind me has been hard with a long goodbye to the love of my life. The road ahead
looks hard too, especially on days like today. But I know Jesus will see me through this “first”
just as He has carried me through every dark and narrow passage since I’ve been alone. Because
He lives, there is a future that outshines grief. Because He lives, I can smile through tears and
whisper—
Happy First Birthday in Heaven, My Handsome Prince. ❤️
If you are walking a similar road of “firsts”—missing someone who used to sit at the breakfast
table—may you find courage to cling to the hope that does not disappoint. We do not grieve as
those without hope.
A prayer for the journey:
“Lord, hold us close in our grief. Let Your resurrection hope lift our hearts and souls. Comfort us
in our loneliness, steady our wavering, and fill our lives with memories that point us back to
Your faithful love. Amen.”
