"Moving Forward"

​One of the re-occurring words of comfort offered to me during the death of my parents’ was “You will find your ‘new normal.’” I wasn’t quite sure what it meant and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I didn’t want a new normal, I wanted my old normal back. I wanted Mom to call me everyday and I wanted to call Dad fussing about him sneaking doughnuts into the house (he was diabetic); I wanted to look into Dad’s hazel eyes, feel mom’s warm smile and linger in their embrace. I wanted my old, but had no choice but to embrace something new.

Moving forward has its pros. I am no longer planning funerals or making burial arrangements; I am no longer driving between Atlanta and North Carolina every weekend; I am no longer spending the entirety of my days in estate meetings. Instead, I sleep with my phone on silent, I'm reading books I had put to the side, and I am progressing in ministry. Needless to say, I am moving forward and constantly learning about myself.

Moving forward is refreshing and liberating, but it is also scary. There is always a part of me that looks toward my parents for their input in everyday decisions. Mom and I used to sit and dream for hours, making a bucket list for some of our most exciting plans in life. Yet, as these plans come into fruition, I long to share them with her. When I met the man of my dreams, I wanted nothing more than to bring him home to meet my parents. I wanted Mom to comment on his looks and spirituality; I wanted Dad to show him his guns (so embarrassing lol). When I got called to a long-desired preaching engagement, I wanted to call Mom screaming with excitement; Whenever I travel, I still pick up my phone to call Mom to let her know I made it. I am moving forward in this “new normal” but it is still weird, awkward and uncomfortable.