It is a sickening feeling to experience the death of someone who is precious to you. To be hit full in the face with the reality that a person whose life is intricately interwoven in yours has been forcibly removed from it and you will never, never see them on this planet again. You will not be able to talk to them, or hug them. All you will ever have for the rest of your life will be memories, which no matter how hard you try to hold onto them, will fade. Photographs, birthday cards, videos and journal entries will all become two-dimensional and lose their authenticity, because the person they represent is no longer accessible. No matter what you do, you can no longer interact with the image, for the connection with the real person is severed, and there is no making it better, no turning back the clock. And when all of this gut-wrenching, cold, reality is jam-packed into one single moment ... a blink of the eye, no wonder your fuse can blow, and you break and crumple like a dried-up piece of pottery.
The Birthday Card is an attempt to give testimony to God's grace and presence with us in the darkest of moments ... even when we can't see him, let alone feel him.
