More random thoughts on my journey following the death of my wife, Renee.

I did not think about this when my parents were living. I wish that I had. But, for some children, there is a single point in their life when they are exactly half the age of their father, and also a single point in their life when they are exactly half the age of their mother. This happens only once or twice in the child's life, if they are fortunate. And, magically, it happens when the child is the same age the parent was when the child was born. Isn't that cool? Isn't that strange?

I'm sure the mathematicians and engineers among us would point out that there is nothing cool or strange or magical at all about this. It's just a matter of simple math. OK.

Of course, whether or not the parent and child enter this strange time is dependent on longevity. My older sister and I crossed into that magical realm with our father, but it didn't happen for any of our younger siblings with our father. I was forty when my dad was eighty, but he died before my next sibling reached his moment. Our mother lived long enough for all of us to have that moment with her. But, as I already mentioned, I did not realize it with either of my parents, and I don't know if any of my other siblings ever realized it. Magical moments missed.

Do the math and see if it has already happened for you, or when it might happen. If and when it does happen, may I suggest that it is a magical moment that you should not miss. It's something worth at least mentioning to your parents when it does happen. I wish that I had.

And, it's an interesting exercise, an interesting conversation piece to talk about, and to compare the circumstances of your life now with the circumstances of your parent when he or she was the same age as you are now, holding a brand new baby you. What were they thinking at that moment? What were their hopes and dreams for you? And how has it all worked out?

I bring this up because it suddenly hit me that I am now, and for the next three months, I will be twice as old as my son. He had a birthday last week - his first birthday without his mother. [Oh, we tried to celebrate as best we could. But it was pretty clear that we were missing the one who made his birthdays fun for him.] He turned 32 years old. I was 32 years old when he was born, and I am now 64. We are not missing this magical moment!

My son and I can't have the conversation I mentioned above; not really. I wish we could. Yes, I have told him about it, just as I have told him that Mommy has gone to be with Jesus, but he may not understand. I'm not sure that I understand it all either.

I've told him that, after waiting seven years from when we got married to have a child, his mom and I were so looking forward to his arrival. It didn't matter whether it was going to be a boy or a girl, we had big hopes and we had big dreams for this baby! But, after his early arrival, our hopes and dreams suddenly re-formed, and were focused simply on his survival. When we brought him home after five weeks in the NICU, we started cautiously hoping and dreaming that maybe all was going to be well. Maybe some of those original hopes and dreams could be put back on the list of possibilities after all! But that was not to be.

Over the years, we reshaped our hopes and dreams for him. But through it all, there was always one constant - Renee was the anchor of every dream. She had to be. It was through the force of her will that he did so well, even thrived, for 31 and a half years. She would not allow it to be otherwise. Now, the hopes and dreams I have for him must be reshaped again, re-formed in some way - in a way that does not include her. I'm not sure how to tell him this. I'm not sure what those dreams look like now. I am not sure what to hope for now.

His birthday was one week ago. That week ended with what would have been our 39th wedding anniversary - my first wedding anniversary without her. So, it was quite a week - one filled with all kinds of memories and emotions.

And questions. And doubts. And fears.

And the knowledge that there are still a few more "firsts" to get through without her - Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday.

Something that has not changed is the stillness and darkness of long, empty nights after long, busy days - days in which I am seemingly working hard, but finding myself always wondering if anything is really getting done - and nights in which I desperately try imagining a future for my son without her.

In August 2018, my son became the age Renee was when she gave birth to him. He was, for a short time, exactly half his mother's age. I wish we had thought about that special, strange and magical moment then. I wish we hadn't missed it.

Ambrose Ramsey | Pastor and Shepherd