Dear Aimee, Happy Anniversary. I'm getting married again.

Dear Aimee,
Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart. Today would have been our eighth, and I have no doubt that the last two and a half years would have been as wonderful as the first five and half were.

If only we could have had the chance to find out.

Rowan is amazing, by the way. I mean, wow. The kid just turned SIX. Can you believe that? But what blows me away is how smart, funny, compassionate, and sweet she is. You know, just like you were. If I was going to have to be a single dad of a child, you could not possibly have left me with a better one. :)

But I guess I'm stalling here. Let me get to the real reason I wrote this letter to you.

I'm getting remarried.

I suppose if you really can see us down here from the glorious heaven above (and I hope for all of our sake that you can't), you already knew that. Sarah and I have been engaged for more than six months now, and the wedding planning began almost as long ago. But with the wedding being now less than two months away, and with today being your and my anniversary, I thought it fitting to tell you now.

I know this is what you wanted. I remember you and I talking about this once, and you making it clear you would want me to get remarried. Maybe you knew Rowan would really want a mom (she does). Maybe you you were aware of how much more work it is to run a household and raise a child on your own. Or maybe you were realistic about how long I'd really be able to last on my own as a single parent. :)  Either way, I recall you being very firm in your belief that if anything ever happened to you, that you wanted me to remarry.

Well, now that time is upon us. And Aimee, I really hope you would have approved of her, especially as she is going to have a huge influence on your daughter.

I think I've done well, choosing Sarah to join our family. First and foremost, she really loves both Rowan and me. And she has in common with you a strong faith in God, a deep desire to care for those she loves, and a healthy dose of patience (which anyone around me needs). Also like you, she is a strong woman, not easily bowled over by life's trials or my Type A episodes.

I'd like to think that the two of you would have truly liked each other, had you had the chance to know each other in this life. And so it is my sincere hope that if you are watching, if you can see us, that you know that Rowan and I both simultaneously miss you every day, but are also happy. And I hope that we would have your blessing on the upcoming marriage and life together. Because since the day you died, I have lived a great deal of my life by the standard of wanting you to be proud of what I've done and the decisions I've made, especially the ones that affect Rowan.

May this decision fall among the ones you would have approved of.

With deepest love and affection on our anniversary,
-Patrick

Sandy Hook

I'm upset. Angry. Heartbroken.

I keep seeing two images from the deadly tragedy. The first is a line of children being led across a parking lot, and one little girl in particular is sobbing. And I think about how horrendous it is when children are forced to face death in ways even most adults shouldn't have to. I think of the terrible fear those poor kids must have felt when the gunshots started. I think of kids that saw their friends or teachers being shot, and how that trauma is going to be with them for life.

I think of kids trying to figure out how to cope with the death of people they knew and loved. I think of how children that young should never have to face death in such a close, personal way. I think of that because after a year of watching Rowan go through it I know how hard it is.

The other image that stays with me is the image of a man, presumably a father of one of the victims, leaning with his head against a car window, crying (now I can't find it again). While I do know loss, I can't fathom the loss of my child, especially in such a senseless, tragic way. I pray to God I never do know that pain (and I think of Donna as I say that).

I have been fighting tears all day. I'm sure I'm especially sensitive to this due to the nearness of the one year anniversary of Aimee's death, but I've been more sensitive to these types of things ever since she died last year. The empathy I feel for people who experience sudden loss has been magnified dramatically since last December. I imagine parents, husbands, or wives getting that phone call or that knock on the door, and getting that terrible news. Thinking of them going through that brings back with sick clarity the moment when Justin came through the door of that house with the news that Aimee was dead, and remembering that what made it hit home was seeing those policemen and others standing at the door. That's when I knew without a doubt that this was real. And then my mind goes back to these families going through that experience themselves, and my heart just breaks all over again for every one of them.

The only hope I have is this:

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away. Revelation 21:4, NKJV

That verse (which was at the end of Aimee's tribute video) is one of the greatest comforts in times like this. I know not everyone believes what I believe, and that's fine. But for me, I can not imagine how I could possibly have any hope in this world if I didn't know in my heart that ultimately God will redeem all the bad and evil for good, and that His perfect will and justice will prevail.

_______________________________________________________________
PS. I know many people feel very strongly about gun rights and gun control laws in when events like this happen. I would ask that this blog post not be used for those discussions. There are more appropriate forums for those discussions, and I prefer to focus on more universal concepts at this time, such as our shared grief over tragedies such as this. Thanks.

Am I angry at God?

Most people who know me know that I am a Christian. As such, I've been asked multiple times "about my faith." This question comes in various forms, but in the end, they're all trying to get to one thing.

Am I angry at God because of Aimee's death?

The question makes complete sense. After all, I truly believe and often said that Aimee was a gift from God to me. No one likes it when our most precious gifts are taken back, do we? I also believe that God is omnipotent, and that therefore He could have saved Aimee's life. So if God could have saved Aimee and didn't, it could be argued that my loss (and the loss of so many others) is God's fault, right?

Well, I can't really say I think God is 'at fault', because to me that would imply a flaw or imperfection - that God made a mistake. And since hold to traditional Christian doctrine - that God is perfect and without flaw - the position that this is God's 'fault' doesn't work for me. But what I can say is that at that moment, as in all others, God was in control, and as such, He allowed Aimee to die that day.

My life verse, Romans 8:28, states that:
"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according toHis purpose." NKJ version

Early on after Aimee's death I said that I didn't think that would mean that things would always work for my good. But that's actually contrary to what this verse says. It does in fact state clearly that all things work together for good for those that love God. That includes me.

So, let's review my beliefs to this point:

• God does not make mistakes.
• God was in control and allowed Aimee to die. 
• All things will work together for good, for me and all those who love God. Now that may not be the way I envision it or hope for it, but that doesn't mean it won't be for my good.

And where does that leave me? That despite the pain I have felt over Aimee's death, someday and in some way the end result of this will be for my good. And I believe for Rowan's good as well.

And this, my friends, lies at the very heart of my recovery from this tragic ordeal. For if I could not believe that God was infallible, or if I thought God could not control events on earth, or that He did not care for me and what happens to me or to Rowan, I could not possibly have much hope for my future at all.

Does that mean I have not gotten angry at God? Well, the most part, I haven't. There have been a few brief moments, but I always come back to the three points above. That and to Job, who while suffering greatly responded to his wife's complaints, "Shall we accept good from the Lord and not the bad?" (my paraphrase).

So no, I am not angry with God. And I believe that in the next life, God in His mercy will reveal to me the breadth of the good that came from both Aimee's life and her death (like the people who are helped by this blog), and I am certain that I will not be able to argue with the perfection and beauty of God's ultimate plan.

One last thing. The above arguments apply to Aimee, too. Meaning, I sincerely believe that her death was what was best for Aimee as well. I don't know why, and never will this side of heaven, but I'm certain of it. Maybe Aimee would have gotten cancer, or had some other horrible condition or accident befall her. Maybe it would have been more than she, I, or Rowan could have borne. I don't know. All I do know is that what happened, as bad as it has been, is for the best.