God is not

I miss him.
I miss knowing we are doing the same thing, together.

I miss taking our kids to the pool and realizing they will be grown too soon.
I miss knowing he loves the sun on his back just as much as I do.
I miss hearing him dream, seeing him reach long fingers with fire in his eyes.

Once again, someone I love has gone to a place I cannot follow, and I hate to watch him walk away.
It seems this is my lesson.
My whole life - I have been watching people walk away.
I thought I'd be better at it by now.
It hurts every time.  It is a shock every time.
I know I have friends who will die.
Who are dying...
I should get ready, right?
I should prepare for the call.

I am afraid he will commit suicide.
I am afraid he will put himself so deep in a hole that he cannot come out.
I am afraid because I have to set boundaries, and I am left to watch from behind my baracade.
I am sick of watching.
I am sick of watching people self-destruct.
However I am torn, because I know it is part of the path.
I am afraid because I know this is the only way to freeom.
But, not everyone makes it all the way through.
They die in their suffering.
I cannot make this add up.
It is senseless from where I stand.
Our most desperate attempts to live are swamped by chaos, like the tiny turtles on the nature channel.
They are killed before they make it to the ocean.
With all their gusto for life, they flap straight into death's open mouth.

I am afraid he will die right in front of me, but still breath.
Still wearing the appearance of someone I once knew, he will not let me grieve.
I am afraid I will watch my friend's ghost struggle for an exit.
Perhaps this is the origin of ghost stories about people stuck between two worlds.

And all of this I must do from behind my wall.
I hate the wall and it's necessity.
It is a privilege to be able to say, No.  The dignity of choice, right?
The gift and the burden of eyes wide open has placed me here.
I don't know.  Maybe I just hate that I am not God.

Or that God is not...helping everyone.

My only consolation is what I do not know.

I have faith that so much more is happening then I can see.

So, in the end, Grace is not what I know, but what I do not.