The Quiet Hallway
One year ago today, I literally stood in my hallway and shared my grief surrounding this moment featured in the picture above. Raw emotions, no filters, and no care about what anyone might think about how I felt. It was deeply personal, and yet many felt a connection to this short yet emotionally transparent moment. So, I thought I would share again.
For the first time since December of 1990, we don’t have any of our kids in our house. This picture is our upstairs Hallway that connected us all. It was always bustling and active — especially around bedtime. But tonight, it is quiet. The rooms are empty. I just stood and listened and can confirm it is, indeed, very quiet.
But not completely empty, I suppose. Even though no one is in the Hallway, or the bathroom, or the bedrooms, this Hallway is crowded with priceless memories that are so thick one might swear the boys never left.
I love this Hallway because of where it led me. It led me to the four most incredible young men I’ve ever known. It led me to constant laughter and occasional tears. It led me to essential conversations and tight hugs.
And now this Hallway leads me to memories of all those nights we thought would never end. But they did end. And now, we will try to find a new normal even though we don’t want a new normal. We want our boys back. But for now, we will find our way through and cling to the memories of nights in this Hallway.
The Hallway is quiet tonight. My heart hurts.
My wife and I had taken our youngest, Jake, to Penn State to work at their athletic complex. It was a great opportunity for him that would take him 3 hours away. And it left us alone in a house that was once filled with four boys, a dog and hamster named Darius. They were all gone.
Jake has since come home from his assignment and we are thrilled to have him back in our house. He will leave again one day, but for now we embrace every moment with him.
Marilyn and I did quite well alone together. She’s my best friend and we are intentional about connecting and doing hard work now so when we are left alone the next time — we are prepared. This may have been a six-month trial period, but we know what lies ahead. As long as we have each other — we are good. Better than good. We are never alone and always found.
