A Hard Day...

I wasn't sure if I would write about this, but I find I can't stop myself. So please forgive me in my indulgence.

I woke this morning, staring at my closet trying to decide what to wear. What do you wear to say goodbye? I tried so hard to be possitive, to be happy for Trevor, but that didn't stop the spontaneous crying spurts.

I came home last night and found my brother, standing in his now sparce room, looking over clothes with my mother, deciding which to keep and which to give to D.I.. He was standing there, like he had for so many days and years before yesterday, but for some reason, I was now able to see him properly. He was a boy turning into a man. The fleeting thought I had when I first glanced at him, was that he looked like a missionary. He is no longer the little boy, with overwhelmingly big glasses and cowboy boots. He's grown up. I knew it was happening. I saw it every day. Until that very moment though, I didn't realize just how grown up he was.

Months ago, when he first got his call, I told myself..."January is so far away! There is plenty of time." It is so strange how time flies when you aren't paying attention.

I made it all the way up to the second line in the hymn "Called to Serve", at the MTC, before my throat closed and I lost the capability to do anything but cry and breathe. I couldn't help myself. I sat there, fighting the tears, crying probably worse than anyone else, sulking and balefully staring at the speakers. They gave their best "you will be blessed, your missionary is going to be great!" speaches and I sat there, glaring back, mentally screaming at them "what's your point? It won't stop the pain." My mind wandered to what they would do if I fought my way through the crowd of new missionaries to get to him as he exited out the "missionary exit"? How many noses would I be willing to break? I am sure the look on my face said "give me a reason to hit you."

I am happy for Trevor. This is the right decision for him. He's been called of God to serve the people of Mexico and I know that is where he belongs. The personal growth he will attain and the experiences he will have will be priceless to him througout his life. However, it doesn't stop the hole from forming where he was. It is a selfish desire, I am aware, for me to want him here. I know that the reason it has been and is so painful, is that I want him for myself, to continue being here for me. I want him to be here to laugh with me...share stories with me...make faces at me. The pain I am feeling is purely selfishness.

I can't help but keep expecting him to walk through the door at any minute and give me a hug. It was such a regular occurance.

I realized today, as I sat before the mirror, getting ready, that this was the end of an era with Trevor and I. Even when he does come back from his mission, things will have changed. We will have changed. Life will move forward and we will both hopefully have families of our own. We will move away and our concentration will be our own families. I know we will always remain close, but it will never be as it was yesterday.

I think that is the hardest part of it all, because I know, as I stand at the doorway of his vacant room and his empty bed, that I am not only looking at the void he's now left behind, but I am looking at the ghost of the past, which was so wonderful and yet will never be again.

The emptiness of it all is astounding.
I pray tomorrow is better.