Last night, after a day marking five years since our heart-sinking trip to the doctor—signifying the start of our journey into suffering, I was lying in bed staring at Judson’s photo on our wall.  My eyes were dry, but my heart was so, so heavy.

It is strange how my sadness over Judson can feel quite different with time and yet simultaneously feel completely unchanged; all the same deep pain exists inside me, yet there are no constants in my experience of it.

While I was fully swept up in the gaze of my little boy’s picture, I realized… my heartache may be endless, but it is not longer relentless.

Author: Christina