Two Years

I think this is perhaps my favorite photo that I have ever taken. I took it one afternoon when I was at my parent's house helping to care for Dad during his final months. It is a very poignant photo for me because while I didn't know it at the time, Kaitlin was 4 months old and my Dad had 4 months left to live. It's so striking for me to see my brand new daughter's face, so fresh and new with exactly as much life in her as my Dad has left in him.

I love the bold look in her eyes as if she's ready to take on the world, contrasted with Dad's tired gaze.

I love her bright smooth skin, perfect and new, against Dad's weathered complexion.

Perhaps what I love most of all is remembering the moments surrounding this photo. Dad was holding Kailtlin in his chair. Singing to her. Loving her. Just absorbing every minute with her as he did in those days. He had to give her a lifetime of love in a very limited amount of time, and I think he accomplished what needed to be done. I sat on the sofa next to them, snapping photos and just watching it all unfold. Relishing these moments that I knew would not last and just trying to remember it all. Dad lifted Kaitlin to put her face next to his. Just to snuggle and be close...she looked into the lens of my camera and I caught this one moment. And it now just brings tears to my eyes.

Today marks the two year anniversary of my Dad's passing.  I am grateful to have the chance to go back to Richland to be with Mom and a good friend to remember Dad by going to the cemetery and out to lunch.  My Mom and I were together that night when we lost my precious Dad, and it is where I really wanted to be on this day.  I'm thankful for my mother in law who will be at my home playing my part--taking the kids where they need to be--so that I can do this.  I'm setting this post up to publish while I'm away.

It seems like such a long time since I've seen or spoken to Dad--I told a friend one day that sometimes he just feels like a really good dream....I miss him a lot. 

However, the second year has brought a lot of healing.  It's nice to feel as though we're really experiencing joy in our life rather than just going through the motions because we know we must move on.  It's nice to be surprised by a thought of him and find myself smiling instead of tearing up.   For this, I am grateful.

On Monday night after we tucked the children into bed, I had gone back downstairs to get something and when I came back upstairs Matthew was standing at the top of the stairs quietly crying with his hands over his eyes.  Dan and I were asking, "What's wrong?  What happened?"

No response.  Just crying.

Finally I said, "Matthew, what were you thinking about that made you cry?"

"Grandpapa."

Two years later he still cries for him, and I have to admit, I do too. I still sit in church and am moved to tears by the words of hymns and the word of God that touch me in new depths than it ever did before. And I find myself wondering, Will I always be this tender?

Do we ever stop longing for those that we've lost that played such a significant part in our life?  I don't think so. 

New routines are established, new traditions, new ways of doing things.  Their absence becomes as familiar as their presence once was and yet, the tears still come.  Even when I don't want them to. It's sometimes difficult to let the grief go because it feels as if I'm letting Dad go...but I know he's with me in so many ways.  In the lessons he taught me that I remember and apply daily.  The love that he lavished on me that I carry with me every moment.  And I'm so grateful to have all of that and really, so much more....

....but I'd love another hug.

....I'd love to have him wandering around my house looking for things to fix and ways to help out.

....I'd love to see him playing with the kids, remarking on their milestones and personalities, and loving them so deeply as he always did.

....I'd love to sit and talk with him about all that has happened since we've lost him.  I'd love to ask some advice and hear his counsel.  

....I'd love to hear him pick up the phone and say, "Yello?"  in his unique way of answering the phone, I'd love to hear his voice brighten when I said, "Hi Dad!" and hear, "Well hello there, Katydid!"  I'd love to hear him say, "I love you, baby" before hanging up. 

...I'd even love to have him telling me how to drive again.  I'd take it all in a heartbeat.

I was so blessed with the Dad that I had.  The relationship we had.  And today, I'm pausing to remember him and all that he was--and still is--to me.  I'm saying a prayer of thanks to God for a terrific father, and for bringing healing to my heart when I really did wonder if I would ever feel able to experience genuine happiness again.  

This is one of my favorite scriptures. Two years ago I clung to it.

"Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us" (Romans 5:3-5).

And today, I know it to be true.