Coffee Date

There is something about a coffee date with a friend that gets me excited.   The meeting usually lands mid-morning when your day will just start getting hectic, but alas you get to jump in your car, head to your favorite Starbucks or local cafĂ©’ and nab a small table for some much needed small talk. 

As you look around at all of the chattering people beginning their day you are participating in the world.  The warmness of the coffee embodies the moment and allows you to exhale and relax.   You can give your undivided attention solely to your friend, sip your skinny vanilla latte and enjoy the great blessing of friendship. 

I often have a different kind of coffee date.  Coffee with Ethan.  Obviously it’s very different than the chatter filled updates with friends.  I am the only one drinking coffee, but I don’t necessarily believe I am the only one talking.  I’m definitely the more vocal one.  I tell him about his brother and sister and how they are doing.  About his Dad and the rest of the extended family.  Mostly I just tell him how much I miss him.  As expected there is crying.   However, often in those moments I will feel the sun beat down on my face, or the wind brush against my wet cheek.  It’s as if he is trying to wipe away my tears.  Sometimes it works and I feel a sense of peace.  Knowing that I will see him again one day.  That he is in a better place though still hate with every fiber of my being when people say that to me.  Other times though,  the tears don’t stop.  And it doesn’t matter how much sun or wind comes, there is no healing for my broken heart.    

I don’t know if he hears me, or if it is, in fact, God eaves dropping on our conversation and intervening to console His child as I mourn the loss of mine.  Whatever the case may be, my coffee date with Ethan is all the future he and I have left.  At least on this earth.  There will be no singing happy birthday. No listening as he babbles of his first day of kindergarten.  No listening to him sing along with newest hit song.  No hearing his valedictorian speech.  No hearing his vows to his soon to be beautiful wife.  No hearing the palpable excitement in his voice as he announces the name, weight, and time of his first child.  No more spoken words from Ethan.
And so I sit still, sip my coffee, and embrace the conversation.