I wore your socks today, slipping my feet into what used to hold yours.
You had such long feet. We even noticed that when you were born and included their measurement on your birth announcement.
Tracing your tiny tooties back then, how could I have known where I would find them one day.
Why did you remove your shoes like you were coming home instead of leaving forever?
Why is a mother having these thoughts at all?  What happened to baby shoes and hopes and dreams?
A mother ought not to have such things to ponder.
 I wonder how tall you would have been.
I held that hope like a secret, watching as you shot past your siblings. You ended at 6’3 so
I never got to see your 6’4.
Would you have been even taller?
You ended that day but my hope did not.
Will you look the same when I see you again? Will God slip your soul into a new body that carries out the promise I hoped for?
Long legs, long arms, long feet, will you be measured in inches or some new standard of the heavenly realm?
 I wore your socks today,  each step missing the strides they used to make on your feet.
I walked into church and nobody knew I wore boy’s athletic socks beneath my church attire.
Just like nobody knew the pain you carried beneath your Sunday smiles.
I was thinking privately while they all sang,
“Love has won, death has lost!”
Death won that day. It took you.
“But all my chains fell to the ground!”
Your chains didn’t fall to the ground, they wound around you so tightly that they choked the life right out of you.
“And when I breathe my final breath…”
Somebody did breathe their final breath, and it wasn’t in old age, it was in desperation at 18 years and 363 days.
Oh, Tristan, Tristan, you stood in this church, wearing these socks and nobody could save you. I tried and tried. You had no idea the pain you’d leave behind when you ended yours.
I wonder if you thought the same things when you tried to sing these church songs.  How they meant so much to everybody else, but not to you. Your agony was too great to see the Truth.
 The Truth. What is Truth? God has taught me since you left so I’d have some things to hold onto.
God was with you in all of your desperation, He saw you and held you and broke the chains of death that imprisoned you  as you passed into eternal life. Now you are singing with a full heart, uninhibited, giving glory to God, pain free.
Your life was exactly as long as God ordained it to be, down to the second. How could it not be? Who is more powerful than God? You don’t need these socks anymore, but God left them for me to have some small piece of my boy until I see him again.
Your story continues here, and you will continue forever on the New Earth. Will you run barefoot over the mountains and into realms unexplored? Will I run with you?
Help me, God. Use me for Your purposes and help me not to waste away because my own purposes weren’t fulfilled. Yours are always better, even if it takes until heaven to see them.
I don’t just have these socks. I have a Savior that walks me through the pain that used to be Tristan’s. Jesus sees me. He’s felt it all before and will be faithful to carry it for me and with me until we are together again. Hug my boy for me, trace his left eyebrow so he knows it’s from his mom. In Jesus’ name, amen.