Surreal as the moon falling from the star-studded sky, so the day seemed.

My husband and I drove 80 miles north, to discuss the sun setting on my step – daughter’s life.

Such a day should have come later, of course.

Decades later.

The dark drape of death isn’t always something we see coming through the windshield of life.

The funeral parlor director wore a gentle, kind smile on his lips. After discussing details for the death certificate, he shifted in his chair.

Then the tall, thin stranger opened a drawer and presented a small,  luminescent lavender bag.

He softly set the lovely shimmery bag on his expansive, solid wooden cherry desk. A gentle “clank” signaled something metal inside the satiny case.

“Here is the jewelry Jennifer was wearing when we picked her up,” he said.

A deep well of tears from the innermost part of my soul sprang forth. I wailed and shook as I felt the cracks of my heart crumble, creating a landslide of pain.

How can someone’s life amount to a small pile of silver rings, earrings and a necklace?

Truly, I know that’s not the case. Human life is more precious than words can begin to express.

The soft sound of the wispy, transparent bag kissed the surface of the hardwood desk, signaling the finality of Jen’s life on earth.

A cloud of sorrow engulfed us as the Jennifer’s absence seemed to echo through our hearts. Hollowness. Emtiness and sadness hung heavy in the air like thick, suffocating smoke.

The world would no longer see her smile or hear her captivating laugh.

No longer would we kayak among the seals and salmon, or glide effortlessly along the smooth waters of Lake Terrell.

How does someone reach across a table that seems as vast as the Pacific Ocean to clutch onto the jewelry – the only remnant left – of my stepdaughter, Jennifer.

Deep down, I realized her life was so much more than the pile of silver jewelry lying on the solid wood desk. I know she is living on the other side of glory, in beauty and peace we can only imagine  here on earth.

Even so, it doesn’t stop the tears. Even so, it doesn’t heal our bleeding hearts.

Jennifer, I miss you more than the ocean is deep. ~