Five More Minutes

With so much left to say I prayed, "Lord I ain't finished

Just give us five more minutes"

Time rolls by, the clock don't stop

I wish I had a few more drops

Of the good stuff, the good times

Oh, but they just keep on flying

Right on by like it ain't nothing

Wish I had me a pause button

Moments like those Lord knows I'd hit it

Yeah, sometimes this ol' life will leave you wishing

That you had five more minutes

Oh five more minutes

Imagine you've just been ripped apart by loss, you're sitting at a concert listening to one of your favorite singers, and these words are rippling through the auditorium. How do you not cry? Honestly, when we went to see Scotty McCreery, I wasn't expecting to be so mesmerized by his emotion. As soon as he began singing the chorus, all the rawness just came back. Of course, everything is still raw. It's been less than two months so how could it be anything but raw?
When Christian died, I wasn't finished. I wasn't finished with my time with him. We had plans to see each other at Christmas. I had just switched around my grad plan so I could attend his high school graduation. I just wasn't done.
There are no truer words than what Scotty sang that night.
I wish there was a pause button. If there was, and I had known, I would have hit it when Christian and Mom came to visit just three weeks before we lost him. I would have begged them to stay for a few more minutes, but I was under the impression I would see them in just three short months. Such wasn't the case.
I know that it's better for us to look ahead than to look back and wallow in our regrets, but in the past is where my fondest memories are of Christian. I want to stay there. Being so young, I feel that if I allow myself to move along as time does, then Christian will get further and further away. I look at the calendar and realize it's already been over a month and a half since his death and I don't want the clock to keep ticking because that means Christian will be in the past.
I can't fathom him simply being a memory of my early adulthood.
It isn't fair.
Big sisters aren't supposed to spend decades upon decades wishing they could have had the opportunity to watch their little brother grow up, go to college, get married, and have kids. That shouldn't be a wishful thought. That should be a reality; but unfortunately, it isn't for me.
The truth is, I will never get those things.
I will never see Christian graduate.
I will never see Christian get married.
I will never see Christian become a dad.
I will never see Christian become infinitely more than who he came into this world being.

At least not here.

It is so hard for me to look ahead.
Of course I'm going to be spending a lot of my time looking into the past, because that's where Christian is...but he's also ahead.
No matter the speed of the ticking clock, Christian will never get further away.
Although this is my fear of moving forward in months and years, he will not be left behind.
The more I age, and the closer I get to the veil, the closer I get to Christian.
So no matter where I am in life, I am always close to him.
Always.

Yes, this life truly leaves me wishing that I had five more minutes with Christian, but in all honesty, having five extra minutes is nothing in comparison to all the time I will get with him when we are reunited in the next life.
As much as I don't want to move forward in time, I don't want to hit the pause button. Not now.
As the clock ticks, life flees, but eternity beckons.
I want eternity with my family.
I so look forward to seeing Christian as the boy he was before depression overcame him.
I cannot wait to hug my brother and see how much growth he was able to attain just by being in the spirit world and having been welcomed by a very loving, Heavenly Father--to see that He is real, and that He loves him.

I'm in no way saying that I'm okay, or that I'm happy because of my knowledge that families are eternal, but the gospel gives me hope in the midst of my despair, and a little bit of light which will eventually outshine the darkness.
Grief still hangs on my back, gripping me tighter and tighter with every moment that passes.
I'm starting to understand Lehi's vision of the tree of life.
I'm barely holding to the rod, but the point is: I'm holding on.
There have been so many times that I have just wanted to scream "I give up!" and let go, but I haven't.
Although difficult through my grief, I can envision Christian up ahead calling my name, telling me to keep holding on. Every so often, I catch little glimpses of brightness eternity gives off. It gives me hope.
I can do this.
I don't want to do it, but I can do it.

I love my brother, but more importantly, I know God loves my brother.
I know that he is near me.
I know that he is rooting for me from the other side of the veil.
I know that he is just as eager as I am to be reunited at the end of this mortal life.
As time goes on, he and I will get closer to that happy day, and I can truly say, "All is well."
But until then, I just have to hold on and let the clock keep ticking.