Dear family and friends…
As the season is changing—pumpkins displayed in every store, talk of costumes, and the smell of hot cider—the leaves on Judson’s tree are turning brown. Watching his sycamore slowly lose its foliage seems to aptly reflect the cycle of dying that seems to occur in my heart with the onset of Fall. The intensity of pain has increased several notches as we are surrounded with seasonal reminders that bring us back to the last weeks with our little man.
It is strange to be one month from the second anniversary of Judson’s death. What would otherwise be considered a significant amount of time, allowing much to occur—our precious lady growing from a toddler into a little girl, a book on the brink of being published, a documentary in the works, and many more gray hairs—our hearts feel the ache of holding our Jud Bud while he took his last breaths as if it were yesterday.
We feel pressures with the lapse of time, as if we should somehow feel different than we do: both internal and external pressures constantly poking at our tender places, elevating our fears and frustrations. And it becomes a constant necessity to throw ourselves into the arms of our Heavenly Father, begging him to allow his perspective, and not that of anyone else, to speak loudly into our raw places.
And he does. He reminds us that he loves us. He reminds us that we are his. He reminds us that he is omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, and yet still cares deeply for little ol’ us. He reminds us that he is enough. And oh, how we need to be reminded that he is enough!
As we soon enter our third year of living without Jud, after November 7th I expect I will no longer write a Levasheff Update each month, but rather, periodically update when there is new “news” in our lives. I will continue to regularly write in my “No Artificial Colors or Flavors” blog, which I’ve always intended to be my raw, honest experience of life…in the last two and a half years, my entries have obviously been colored mostly by my journey with Jud, but as time passes I imagine it will morph into other things as well.
Though we ache and cry and continue to groan, we have much to be thankful for. Our hearts are especially full as we consider the people who have consistently walked with us through the highs, lows, and deeply broken places, even sacrificing their own comfort by personally feeling our pain. Thank you for filling us up by genuinely caring!
Much love and gratitude,
Christina (on behalf of Drake too)