Each day in August leading up to the day “it” happened is worse than the last. The 25th looms ahead taunting my grief and begging for a meltdown. The memories I work so hard to stuff into the recesses of my mind come knocking with a force that will not be denied. Every moment of my last weekend with Brian, what we did, what we talked about, replays in my mind teasing me with the thoughts of hope and promise I had for his future. The believer in me is reminded that his “future” has always been exactly as it is now. My limited earthly brain could not (cannot) process that he IS living HIS future, as GOD planned it, not me. My momma’s heart breaks anew each day. Thankfully, Jesus is here with me, in my pain and sorrow, comforting me and holding me close. God has surrounded me with loving family who encourage me even though they, too, grieve. I have amazing friends who listen, love, and let me be me. Yes, in this season of remembering and reliving the worst day ever, I remember the precious people who dropped everything and came to show God’s love by surrounding me in the midst of unimaginable despair. I remember my family who suffers too. I remember that I am a child of the Most High King. I remember His love for me is great. Mostly, I remember Brian.