our Jimmy Carroll. It feels like four years, instead.
I sleep, I wake, I eat—daily activities detached from feelings,
like a wind-up doll, going through the motions.
Life unfolds, but with no sign posts, no deadlines, no benchmarks.
Time that stretches on. Time that drags.
Time that creeps by so slowly that clocks and calendars
but marked by his absence. It is a disorienting dichotomy.
I’m not sure why. I just know that I can’t. I don’t.
as if there’s a subconscious glimmer of hope that he can be reclaimed, that he won’t be gone forever.
so all encompassing—that it so envelops everything—that no other word will do.
the reasoning for the word “loss,” I just know that it is
My feelings and emotions run the gamut.
and peace can, and do, coexist—that it is possible to be afraid
each other. Words fail—no vocabulary exists—that could ever adequately convey just how much.
of pain, for the privilege of love.”
The depth of my pain corresponds to the depth of my love.
Our love was an abyss, therefore, my pain is bottomless.
It was a privilege, indeed.
The brevity of life, though easy to ignore, demands that we pay attention. It requires us to notice, to redeem the time, to not squander it, through carelessness, indifference, or ambivalence.
Jimmy’s life was heartbreakingly brief, but, although his time was short, I pray it will forever be marked, not by its duration, but by its content.
and why he was here, and he didn’t waste a moment.
We have concluded that the best way to honor Jimmy, is to live
a Christ-like, other oriented, purposeful life, just as Jimmy did.
We can’t wait to share what’s next.
Now, may we go and do likewise.