“I can only imagine…” are words I hear a lot. They are said by someone who is trying, wanting, and needing to comfort or help. They are honest and real and don’t offend me at all. I think it’s because it’s not specific to grief. I mean, we can ONLY imagine another’s life.
The past couple of weeks have been filled with many ups, which then kicks in an extra dose of grief because I can only imagine…
The moment the Red Sox won the World Series, I can only imagine Scott jumping up and down like a kid, singing their praises. I can only imagine the beers that would follow, and the giant hugs he’d give to our son. I can only imagine his victory dance.
When I’m excited that I aced something in my job or given a new opportunity, I can only imagine the soft look of love on his face. I can see his look of part joy, part love and 100% excitement. I dream of telling him my news face to face, but I can only imagine his reaction.
During the times I’m desperately trying to comfort our daughter, I can only imagine his reaction to her tears. He’d say, “Oh, Ana…” in his soft voice reserved for her as he held her on his lap. We can only imagine this moment.
As I find out that I am actually going to buy our first home, I can only imagine the reaction from a man who was terrified of home ownership. I see him sprawled on our bed, pillow over his face, wondering if this is an OK decision. I can only imagine his reaction to this news.
I can only imagine the jokes and reenactment of our son’s very inappropriate reaction to his birthday gifts. I can see the embarrassed laughter mixed with the horror when we both realize that we forgot to prepare our son for his birthday. I can only imagine his thoughts and reactions.
After a terrible day at work, I can only imagine the hug that I need from him or the urging to take a few minutes alone before facing the kids and the tasks of the evening. I can only imagine the support he was mostly good at giving.
I can only imagine his reaction to this picture:
As I hold my first published essay in an actual book, I can only imagine the look of excitement and joy. I wonder what he’d say or he’d feel. I can only imagine.
Yes, we can only imagine another’s life, but one of the hardest parts of my grief is that I can only imagine how he’d help me get through the many ups and downs.