So, what’s it like up there? I wish I had some picture of Heaven, so I could imagine you there, but I guess I’ll just have to wait. For now, I imagine you playing with Paul, Evan, and Honor. Tell them their big sister says that she loves them and can’t wait to meet them.
Mom and I were talking the other day, and she said that it seemed strange, but that she actually misses you more now then she did when you first left. I replied that it’s because when you first left, the pain was in the thought of you never returning. Now the pain is in actually missing you.
I can’t believe that it’s been six months. It feels like it’s gone by so fast, yet lasted an eternity. So much has happened, and yet so many things remain unchanged.
I miss you so much, Josh. I miss talking with you, singing with you, dancing with you. I miss the happy, carefree days we spent together as children. The other day I was thinking about different things we did as kids. Our “Beanie Baby wars”, playing My Little Ponies, playing Eddyville, having you and Mom attend my “wedding”. We made so many memories together. I cherish those more than anything.
I was also thinking about that morning – trying to remember the last thing I said to you. I’m still not sure what that was. The last thing that I remember was you asking me where the lunchbox was in the pantry. I told you, and you packed your lunch. And then…you walked out the door. I heard it close, but I had no idea it had closed for good.
I’ve tried to imagine what you must have felt like. What you were thinking about. Were you thinking about those standing on the rocks, watching you? Were you scared? Were you thinking about your family, grieving your death?
Of one thing, I’m sure. I believe that the very last thing you thought about was meeting God face to face. And I believe that you were excited.
You have seen God’s face. Whenever I think about that, I start crying. You have been in the presence of God. The thought of you worshipping at the throne of God makes heaven and eternity so much more real to me. And the knowledge that you are still living gives me hope.
I miss you so much. I never knew what it felt like to hurt like this. But I know – I know – that it was God’s plan to take you home. And that through doing so, you have changed the lives of thousands.
You, Joshua Steven Eddy. You and your imperfections, your passion, your zealous love for your Savior. You and your love for others, your impulsive, cheerful personality. You and your quirks and gifts. You and your faith in God.
Yep, well, I’m crying now. But don’t you worry about me. I’ll be okay. God has promised me that I will see you again, and I’m clinging to that promise.
There is so much more I could say, but I’ll save that for another time. Thank you for changing my life. Thank you for being so good to me, Joshy, even when I didn’t deserve it (which was most of the time). You were a true brother, and I love you so much.
Goodbye Josh… for now.