It has been three years since I last held Hannah in my arms. Three years since her home going. Three years since I crawled into bed with her and released her back to her Creator. Three years since she took her last breath on earth and her first breath in Heaven. It has been three years since this daddy’s heart was shattered into a million pieces. Three years…
A lot has happened in the past three years. So many major life events…so many memories. And yet with each new memory, we continue to look back, knowing that new memories will always be incomplete. Every family picture has a palpable absence where my daughter should be. With Joshua and his baby brother yet to be born, I will never have a family picture with all of my children in it. That is still a hard reality to accept.
This time of year is always so hard. Hannah’s birthday in January and looking back at the memories that were made at her one-year old party. And then all the memories leading up to the date of this painful anniversary. It is a blessing and yet it is so hard to log on to Facebook and have memories pop up. In a moment I’m taken back to the feelings of anxiousness and anticipation as we boarded the planes…
I remember the excitement of our first days in Nairobi at the guest house…
Quickly the pictures transition to the boys in superhero costumes becoming instant friends with the other MKs (missionary kids) and all of us adjusting to our new lives in Kenya…
Playtime…
Family trips to the river…
And then just as quickly the pictures change to show my baby girl not feeling well. Within days she is my patient in casualty. An IV and feeding tube are placed. Lab tests are done. I can still feel the weight of her in my arms as I held her on that chair hoping and praying for answers…
But no answers came. My care for her transitioned to our house…
The next day more tests…still no answers…more care at home…and a picture sent out to thousands through Samaritan’s Purse so everyone could pray…
My last picture with my baby girl before everything fell apart. Still not sure why, but I knew I wanted to remember spending time with her and holding her hand that night…
And then my world is turned upside down. At 2 am Hannah stops breathing. Endless rounds of CPR, intubation, the loving care of every Tenwek physician. Countless prayers pouring in from around the world…
And finally the heart-wrenching diagnosis is made…
A race to Kijabe for surgery…
A successful surgery to remove the tumor and then a long night at Hannah’s bedside…
But our prayers were not answered in the way we had hoped. The following morning we released Hannah Mae back to God…
I still remember the waves of emotion during those rapidly evolving days and on the seemingly endless journey back to Tenwek to tell the boys that we didn’t bring sissy back with us. I still can look back and see the hurt and confusion on their faces.
This time of year, I tend to look back a lot. I look back and remember and wish for the times that I never had with my baby girl. But I am so thankful that we can do more than just look back…we can also look ahead. We look ahead to what is yet to come. We look ahead to sweet reunions. We look ahead to making endless new memories with all of our children together. We look ahead to the promises of Heaven. “He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken.” Isaiah 25:8
I don’t know what my reunion with Hannah will look like. I don’t know what she will look like. I don’t know how I will react. What I do know is that I will finally be allowed to know answers to so many of the “why” questions that I have about Hannah’s life and death. I know that God will allow me to see His plans and purposes through our journey.
We still occasionally hear stories of the ripple effects that her precious life has had on others. I count it a huge honor to be Hannah’s father. But God isn’t finished yet. The tapestry of God’s story is still being constructed…from this side it still appears so messy and nonsensical. But I am looking ahead to when I see it in it’s entirety…when it is finished. “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12 Until then we will continue to trust…even when nothing makes sense.
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- Looking Back….Looking Ahead - March 14, 2016
6 Comments
Linda Weidemoyer
Mar, 14, 2016Hi Aaron,
My heart goes out to you at this time. I remember the day Hanna went to her forever home too. I had been following your story on FB and praying for her healing, I eagerly got up that morning to check on your status and as I read your words that Hanna had been healed, I rejoiced….. then I read the end of the sentence….that she went to her forever home. I remember yelling NOOOOOOO…… and sat on my couch and wept for some time. I had used one of her pictures as my wall paper, and kept it there for a long time afterwards. My heart just broke for you and your family. I wished I could have done something to take that pain away from you, but I knew I could not.
However we must remember, that we have a God in Heaven who loves us. And even though we don’t always understand all He does, we have that Hope that one day we will be together with Him and our loved ones for eternity. I know there are things in my life that I cannot control, and that is what I look at, as I know you do too. This life is but a breath of what eternity will be like with our loved ones. Praying for you and your family.
In Christ,
Linda
Sarah
Mar, 14, 2016Dear Kelley family,
I’ve not met you, but I’ve followed your story and thank you for being real and open about what you’re going through. I had shared one of your blogs on my FB wall 3 years ago for friends to pray and be aware of your struggle…that came up on my feed today as a memory. And now to read this, with tears in my eyes, and prayers renewed for each of you, with Kari Jobe’s “Forever” on the radio in the background–yes, death is overcome, but it doesn’t make it easy to walk through! Thank you for sharing, for trusting in Jesus, for knowing that Heaven is our home.
May you know the comfort of Jesus’ loving arms today.
~Sarah~
don cruikshank
Mar, 15, 2016This post brought me to tears… some of sorrow and some of hope for what the future holds. Losing a loved one this way is wrenching, confusing, and puts the emotions in turmoil… it drives us to our knees like nothing else seems to. I lost my wife of 37 years to cancer 3 years ago. Everything was normal in life for us and then she was gone eight weeks later. All the motions that you expressed are ones that I felt and struggled with. Our only hope and consolation is in our faith and the promises of God’s word. Stand firm!
Don
Janette Woodrum
Mar, 15, 2016Prayers what a tribute..blessings to your family
Monisha
Mar, 15, 2016Sending prayers and hugs to you and your family
June McLaren
Mar, 16, 2016Shortly after my mother died, I glanced at a smiling picture of her and, crying, said: “Oh, Mom, I so wish I could have another one of your beautiful hugs.” Then, the most amazing thing happened ….. I felt wrapped in the most enveloping hug. It seemed to last a long time, but was probably only seconds. Ever since that day, I’ve felt the presence of her love. How has God done this? I don’t know, but I do know she’s closer than I ever realized. I’m praying for God to bring you “Hannah comfort”, as only He can. Love from the sea coast of NH!