There’s something I’ve been carrying in my heart for a few days and I need to say it now, because tomorrow is the first day of school and I need to greet it with a smile, be excited with my children, make them a special breakfast, and send them out the door with prayers and hugs.
Kalkidan should be here.
More than anything, she wanted to be a teenager and go to high school, where she planned to excel as an athlete despite her tiny size.
I’m deeply sad that tomorrow will not be her first day of high school – that she won’t walk through the doors with her sisters and friends, a bundle of nerves and excitement swirling in her stomach.
Claire will walk through the doors as a freshman without her – my twins, who weren’t twins, but shared the same grade and even the same best friend.
Kalkidan would have worn something bright and colorful, I’m sure, and possibly forgotten one detail that would have led to a flurry of activity just moments before rushing out the door.
We would have gathered in a circle, praying over the kids, and the moment we said, “Amen,” she would have burst from our arms and raced out the door, yelling, “Bye Mom, Bye Dad,” as she ran across the grass.
I can see her now.
I know that high school pales in comparison with heaven – many folks would compare it a little more to heaven’s alternative, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling deep grief that tomorrow was taken from us.
I’m wearing her Ethiopian cross necklace and keeping her close to my heart – it’s all I can do – and asking Jesus to be near.
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