I sat with grief again today.

Not because I wanted to, but because sometimes it comes and sits with me. This week, with the tragic death of Charlie Kirk, grief found its way back into the room with me once more. His passing has shaken so many. No matter what you believed about his words or his work, he was a man on a mission…someone who gave his life to a cause. And it reminded me that when it’s all said and done, what matters here on this earth is not the applause, not the comfort, not the recognition, but whether we stood boldly for our Truth, whether we lived as disciples of Jesus, and whether we made disciples of others. That’s what lasts.

And in the middle of watching the world mourn Charlie, my heart went back to my nephew….My Treven.

I miss him more than words can ever describe. Today, I visited him. I sat quietly with him. I told him how much I missed him. I let the silence say the rest, because sometimes the ache is too heavy for words.

Grief is supposed to be “normal.” They say it comes in waves, that it ebbs and flows. But knowing that doesn’t make the sting any less sharp. Some days it feels like breathing through shattered glass…painful and unavoidable. I wish I could answer the burning questions that run through my mind. I wish I could understand the “why” that lingers, like a shadow I can’t escape. And oh, how I wish I could bring him back.

But deep down, I know. I know that if given the choice, he wouldn’t come back. Not now. Not after seeing the beauty and glory of Heaven. Not after meeting the Savior face to face. And so, I sit in the ache, caught between wishing for what was and believing in what is to come.

Treven, I miss you. I miss your smile, your laugh, your presence. My sweet boy, my heart will never stop wishing you were here with us.

So today, just like so many days before, I sat with grief again. I let the tears come. I whispered the words I’ll never stop saying: I love you. I miss you. I’ll see you again.

And here’s the truth I’m left with…grief may sit beside me, but it does not get the final word. Eternity does. Purpose does. Legacy does. If Treven’s life and Charlie’s death both tell us anything, it’s this…our days are numbered, our calling is urgent, and our faith is the only thing worth building our lives upon.

So today, I sat with grief. But tomorrow, I will carry the torch higher, love louder, and live bolder…for the Kingdom, for the cause, for the One who promises that one day grief will sit no more.