More Than Just a House
To the ordinary eye this is simply a gorgeous lake house on a gorgeous lake in the middle of Michigan. A dream house actually. You wouldn't believe the inside of it. It's pretty much what you would expect given what you see on the outside.
When we went up to the lake in April I really had no idea it would hit me like it did. I walked out onto our dock, turned to the right and there it was. John and Kim's house. Empty. Quiet. Life-less.
Not sure how long I stood there, looking, just shaking my head from side-to-side.
And that night I cried myself to sleep for a long time.
Kim and the kids have recently moved to a beautiful new home in a nearby subdivision. And Kim continues to be one of the strongest women that I know. And the church continues to be an AMAZING support system for she and the kids. It really is unbelievable that 8 months later they are still strongly involved in her life. In the move. In fixing up the home prior to them moving in. In daily living.
We went to the lake this past weekend and while I thought it might be just a bit easier to see the empty house, it really wasn't. Still made me sad. Still shed some tears. Still wish John was alive. Still ache for Kim and the kids.
If you know me at all, you know that I'm rarely at a loss for words, but I think because we don't see Kim often, whenever I see her I want to burst into tears and tell her over and over again that I'm just so, so sorry. Sometimes I really do hate that I'm a cry-baby. And I hate that I don't know what to say. And actually, what I usually end up saying is something stupid like, "How are you?" Ummm, ya. Stupid question.
And I don't want her to feel sad every time she sees us, but the reality is, because we walked the summer and the last few weeks with her leading up to John's death, that there probably is a connection of sorrow when she sees us. Maybe not. Maybe so.
I always walk away from time with her thinking that I just wish we could do more to help with the pain and sadness.
I have a feeling this summer will be dotted with deep sadness ... no John at the Hickory Corners Memorial Day Parade. Or the Richland 4th of July parade. Or the fireworks on the 4th. No spontaneous outdoor fires with banana boats. No John. And as a result, no Kim and kids just down the way.
I think the hardest will probably just be the constant vision of their home which is no longer their home ... to us, it is so much more than just a house.
Why, John? Why?