It's May 2nd. The 13th May 2nd. David says it perfectly when he says that "there is a sacred hush..." That's exactly how I feel every May 2nd. I wonder if there will ever be a morning of May 2nd when the bus accident isn't the first thing that comes to mind. On the other hand, I dread the moment when I forget what happened on May 2nd or lose track of the date.
13 years and I absolutely remember EVERYTHING of that day. I remember what time I found out, what I was wearing (a purple WWJD shirt with my orange and yellow tennis shoes) and who the first people I saw and talked to right after we heard. A total of 7 people died that day; 6 of them were on the bus. I knew 4 of them. Astyn and I had a sleepover the weekend before it happened, the next weekend she died. Tough stuff for an 8th grader to process.
Some years I cry, other years I reflect on the day and allow myself to be sad. There are some years where I feel incredible guilt. I should have been on that bus but I changed my mind the last minute and decided to go to a handbell competition with my church instead of church camp with my friends. This year I cried on my way to and from work and have thought about that day all day long. I don't know why some years are different than others. I think a big part is that we've grown up and they haven't. We've gotten married, had kids, succeed in our careers, and they didn't finish junior and high school. It just doesn't seem right.
I am thankful for a Saviour, for everlasting life, a peace that surpasses all understanding, and knowing that there is a huge Christian family reunion that is in our future.
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