My therapist and I recently uncovered this discovery:

“You can’t promise forever to a widow.  She won’t believe you.”

It’s true.  The biggest and best promises, the purest of intentions, can rupture in no time at all.  Only so much of forever is promisable.

“Until death parts us” feels like a pretty forever vow.

But I know differently.

* * *

You can’t promise forever to a widow. She won’t believe you.

“Mommy, you know you’re going to die soon.”

“No, not soon, buddy.”

“But you’re going to die someday.”

“Someday, I will.  Probably not until you’re a grandpa.”

“But you’re going to.”

I can’t promise him that I won’t.  And even if I did, he wouldn’t believe me.

He knows differently.

There’s plenty of room in here for spiritual, biblical answers.  I know.  I know the answers.  I know the questions.  They crash against each other in my mind with varying degrees of volume and velocity.

The forever I know, the forever I’m promised, isn’t here.  And there isn’t another one I can believe in.

So, say what you want. But I know differently.

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