How… can I survive this? I just talked to Ian for 20 minutes on the phone from Boston. I won’t hear his voice until next Saturday. Just his voice! No touch of his hands or lips, no hearing his breathe beside me, no feeling his warmth against my back, no illicit looks behind my family’s back. No witty repartee – how can emails be witty? – no Mario Kart or Bob-ombs, no Halo and his mom’s making comments about our lovingness with regards to brutally sniping each other, no long baths reading books, no singing along to Jars of Clay in the Prius together. He’s been gone not 12 hours and I feel like I could lay down and die right now. So alone. No amount of wearing his shirts or holding Dogbert or even reading his words on a screen can ever substitute for the in-person interactions I have become so accustomed to. At least he’s made it to Boston safely. Now to Heathrow, to his IQP, and for me to a habit of obsessive email-checking in hopes one of the from lines will say Ian Ferguson.

– KF –

2 thoughts on “Post-Call

  1. I knew it wasn’t a good idea for you to be alone all day today. I’m so sorry I had places I had to be almost all day or I would have had you stay here in the morning at least.

    It doesn’t feel good, but we don’t really grow until we’re under pressure. You know that awful thing they do to make bone grow–they put in pins and pull it apart from two directions.

    Attitude is everything and you’ve got the right idea when you turn your thoughts to the Lord and his suffering in separation from His Father. That’s what “having the mind of Christ” is all about–thinking about our circumstances the right way.

  2. I’m doing OK. The house is very lonely, but that just means nobody’s there to look at me weird when I talk aloud to God. It’s times like this – the worst ones – that He uses to remind me He’s there. And won’t ever leave.

    But that doesn’t make me miss Ian any less.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.