The phone rings in the middle of the night, jarring me from my sleep. My husband answers it and within a few seconds he is dressed and out the door. There is an emergency that needs him and as he is running to help, I am laying awake in the dark. My mind is racing. This is my life as an EMT's wife, and no matter how many years it has been, I never get used to it.
I lay in bed praying for his safety, and then my heart is aching for the family whose world has just been turned upside down.
5 years ago that was our moment.
That moment when the phone rings and the room just fades away. That moment when fear and confusion takes over and reality feels like a bad dream. That moment when your faith and hope is all you have and your prayers come from the deepest cries of your heart.
And then that moment becomes that day. The day you are forced to say goodbye too soon. That day when your life is forever changed. That day when you feel like you've been broken into a million pieces and there is no way to ever put you back together.
The years have gone by and it is now the day that no one wants to talk about, but nobody can ignore.
It's the day when everyone tip toes around me for fear of saying the wrong thing. But really, it's just another day. It is not any different from the other 364 days a year that I think about my brother, Matt. It is no different than every other day when I can close my eyes and bring back all those memories.
Maybe the wounds are still too fresh, but it's my desire that one day June 10th will become a day of hope.
The day when we finally realize that our prayers for Matt's healing were answered beyond what we could have imagined. A perfect healing. An eternal healing. A day when we cling to God's promises and rejoice in Jesus' victory.
Matt's life is not over. June 10th is the day when his life truly began.
