goodbye

I walked up to our coffee shop one day in September of last year.
He was sitting on the patio with my sister.
He was a boy.
He was a stranger.
We smoked his first cheap cigarette together.
And he became ours.
He taught me how to love unconditionally.
What it meant to have a little brother.
I watched him see the world for the first time.

I woke up on morning to a skinny, long-legged boy walking through my hallway in his boxers.
His smile was just as big then as it is now.
But today, he is full of light.
Happiness once radiated through his inquisitive face.
A handful of years later, it is now joy.
He taught me about plants and the Kingdom of Heaven.
About the sweetness of words and childlike enthusiasm.

-

I did not anticipate shedding any tears when I walked into the house last night.

But as I entered the room and my eyes found you, I realized I was not prepared for this.

For you were no longer a little boy. You were no longer a stranger. You had rubbed up against the world and gained some wisdom. Your face shows it.

In your eyes, I saw some fear. Not the paralyzing fear that inhibits most of us. But the healthy sort that propels you forward, wide-eyed and breathless.

-

Our lives collided.

Intertwined, we have grown.

Gaining and taking and providing.

We have opened each other's eyes to the many dimensions of Heaven, to the thousands of faces of God.

We taught each other what it means to share.

We needed each other.

A family.

Brothers and sisters.

I would not have survived without you.

-

What happens, though, when our growth carries us away.

When what once fit, is now too tight.

-

Last night, it was time to leave.

You were not the only ones leaving.

You see, I was leaving too.

-

So I told you I was proud. Because I am.

And I told you I will always love you. Which I will.

But we don't say goodbye, you and me.

So I walked away - tears were hot and salty.

-

I found you.

And my cracked heart broke into pieces.

Sitting on that sidewalk, I listened as your tears turned back into breathing.

We went to the throne room together.

But the prayer I prayed was just as much for me as it was for you.

I'll call when I need a holiday in Spain.

-

The wind was blowing.

Catching our breaths and the smell of our tears and carrying them away.

I walked away...

But I had to stop at the corner.

Because the wind kept blowing, and the streetlight glowed warm and yellow in the humid night air.

And I turned around and whispered goodbye.

But you didn't hear me.

-

Always before, He's taken away and left me empty for a season.

Teaching me how to love Him with empty hands. To be faithful through loneliness.

This time, He has taken away and handed me something new.

Something unfamiliar.

Something blooming.

Something beautiful.

Because He knew I wouldn't survive this hurt alone.