A Night in the Box

We sang one of Nathan's favorite songs in church today. It is a beautiful, triumphant song and I cry every time we sing it, especially when Susan's choir has their soloist for it. I love the song. And I hate the song. I always think that "this time I'm going to get through it" and I sing along with my terrible voice drowned out by the choir and congregation. Inevitably when we get to the chorus where the song rises to its most triumphant peaks I tear up and my voice breaks and I just listen on through the rest.

It is a blessing that the song brings such powerful memories. At its most potent I can see him standing next to me with a huge smile clapping along almost to the rhythm and I can feel a bit of the closeness that was there when he and I worshiped in church together. I don't think that such experiences can be explained. It is paradoxical that I can be so thankful for such powerful memories of him and at the same time, because of the same experience and memories feel such pain.

And then the day goes on like any other day.