As we move through life we collect days of meaning and significance. They don't pass without a celebration, or recognition somehow. Of course, the obvious: a wedding date, birthdays, and those small meaningful ones perhaps only known to one's self...a dating anniversary with a spouse. A friend I know has a smile on the yearly anniversary of a life saving surgery. And there are those dates that bring pain somehow, but refuse to pass by unacknowledged because of the memories they hold, and the significance they bear on our life.
The anniversary of a death of a loved one is one that I know is etched on many people's hearts.
My heart knows when October 20th is approaching even when I try not to focus on it, or think about it. It's hard to know what to do with that day. I realize it's different for everyone, and it will probably even change for myself over time. Someone told me shortly before the 20th arrived that they just don't let themselves think about the day they lost their loved ones. And honestly, I don't dwell on it. Life is far too busy, and there are too many happy and wonderful things to focus on to do that. But for the last 3 years it has helped me to stop and acknowledge it for what it is.
I drove home the day of the 19th and realized I was on the road at the same time that I had been 3 years ago. A simple coincidence that I would have preferred not to have noticed. I went to bed late the night of the 19th honestly, with a really heavy heart. Truth be told, I stayed up late and shed quite a few tears. I just really miss my Dad.
I woke up early on the 20th feeling the same way. The day holds difficult memories. That morning, Katie and Mom cut flowers from Dad's garden from the same plants that he tended to. I thought it was a wonderful idea to take his own flowers to him.
We headed to the cemetery and arranged the flowers. Matthew took this photo of us ~ he did great! Look in the background...there's Katie visiting the kids' favorite grave. Isn't that funny? They love that headstone and their routine is to run out of the car to my Dad's grave and then run on to that one. We do make sure they don't remove anything ~ it's usually full of pinwheels and things that the kids love to see.
Mom teased the boys a bit about things Grandpapa might say to them if he were here. The other night at dinner, Dan leaned back in his chair and said, "Tell me something, Matthew...." Then smiled.
My Dad used to say that all the time.
He was nosy. Not in a gossipy way, but in a really truly caring about people sort of way. I don't remember him often saying it to me, probably because I willingly volunteered a lot of information, but I do remember him often saying to Dan and Mike , "Tell me something, Dan...." and then he'd ask a question. The memory of it still makes me smile.
We headed to Red Robin for lunch where Mom let the kids get milkshakes.
Dad loved milkshakes.
And then we met Grammie at the park. The same park that I went to as a child and loved.
And this sight just made me laugh.
I had a ball taking photos of the kids in a setting where their happiness just shone through.
Okay, so not a lot of happiness here. But I love this of the Bug. She was mad that the squirrel she was chasing ran up the tree.
And as the day went on, there were emails. Texts. Calls. Flowers. Comments on the blog. And as I received them the heaviness in my heart lifted. And I truly felt lifted up by all of you, sweet friends and family. And I was touched to know that even after 3 years...this day wasn't faced alone.
And there was joy.
When you see enough of this, you can't help but have it spread to your own heart.
And therein lies the blessing of children.
And there were a lot of simple pleasures.
And no dropping off and picking up.
And no rushing to the next thing on the list.
But there were lots of seed pods falling from the trees.
And little boys waiting to catch them.
And as I took all of this in...
The day started to feel like a gift.
And I said quiet prayers of thanks for these sweet moments.
Amazing friends.
For a precious Dad.
And for healing.
