As I have thought about this day and wondered how to do it 'right', I have come to the conclusion that the best we can do as grieving people is to show up. We can gather our people - the ones who have been willing to wait out the long, dark night, the ones who haven't shied away from pain, the ones who will bear witness because they see it is sacred - and together we will remember. I think the reason so many platitudes follow tragedy is because we need to believe in goodness, we need people to not be in pain and to feel better, we need hope. This journey over the last year of grief and this journey of accepting that dreams can die and be remade has helped me to see that we don't have to fear pain. We don't need to feel better, at least not right away. The experience of pain, of great loss, of tragedy is not one that we could choose, but when it chooses us, we can lean into it rather than fighting it and it will break and shatter and hurt.... and then it will build resilience, trust, and hope that is not easily disappointed.
It is hard for me to even put into words what has unfolded in my heart over the last year (I know - me, speechless?), but I am confident that my hope is stronger than ever. Not hope in the worldly sense, that I hope I will achieve or receive something, because this journey instructs us that to hope in those things is empty. But hope that is eternal and rests with the Good Father, who walks near us in our defeat and near us in our triumph. "I relieved his shoulder of the burden, his hands were freed from the basket. You called in trouble and I rescued you; I answered you in the hiding place of thunder." Psalm 81:6-7. Rescue does not mean that we will be spared from pain, it does not mean we will get the ending we are desperately praying for, but it means that even when tragedy strikes, we can trust that God is exactly who He says He is and He will show up with us in our pain. He will shoulder the burden of sadness with us, He will carry the basket of broken dreams with us, He will sit with us in the storm of anger and confusion - and He will answer.
I am grateful for the life of Levi Robert Priour. I wish it had been longer, I wish the milestones weren't in remembering - but his life, however brief, has made me more resilient, compassionate, hopeful, alive, willing to take risks, and certain of the treasure I have in heaven. I am also more certain that the courage required to live a life of purpose doesn't come from fearlessness or maintaining control; but rather it comes from confronting your fear, leaning into your pain, and knowing that even in the deepest darkness - you will never be alone. You don't get to know those things in the core of your being until you have to go deep in darkness and when you do emerge from the darkness knowing that there is hope, goodness, and abundance for you - what is there to fear? You will live courageously.
I can't bring myself to say, "Happy Birthday." It doesn't feel authentic, at least not yet. But I can say, I'm so happy you were born. I'm so happy I got to see you, hold you, and I will love you forever.
