“The anniversary of your death comes around every year and you never know it.” -Momma
Written by the finger of God and etched on the minds of those left walking earth until the inevitable happens.
At his kitchen table, one year ago, my Daddy looked up to Heaven and stepped in.
One year ago today, my husband uttered those words etched on my heart, “I’m so, so sorry. Your Daddy…”
One year ago today, my dear friend dropped everything in her busy life to come over and offer her shoulder and her help and her prayers.
One year ago today, I became an orphan in the earthly sense.
But as those unidentified, invisible persons known as “they” say: “Life goes on.”
And it has – at break-neck pace as I run on the treadmill of this extraordinary and abundant life I’ve been graciously given.
The quiet moments are few.
But when they come…
The emptiness of my childhood laid at the house on 395 Lake Circle Drive beckons me. And I know I can never go home again.
Our Saturday trips to the white brick house around the lake I bicycled around so many times in my youth, is no longer mine.
And I grieve.
Yet, there is no time for that. “Life goes on.”
After all, my daddy lived a full life. This is how it was “supposed” to happen. I didn’t lose a child. I would never compare as that horrific pain would be too indescribable.
I wouldn’t compare it to a sibling or a young person who had their whole lives ahead. That unfairness wrecks my soul.
My daddy was old. I came into my parent’s life as a “bonus” and I am so grateful and often quite surprised I had them as long as I did.
And I rest knowing where he is.
But it still hurts. And I find myself apologizing for the sorrow.
The grief is silent and hidden. There is no time to wallow and I feel as if I shouldn’t.
Because he was old, lived a full life and is in Heaven.
My head knows, but my heart isn’t listening.
I am selfish and want more time.
I want my children’s Papaw to see them graduate and get married. I want him to hold my grandchildren.
I want to call my Momma and hear her defend me when I’ve been hurt and hear her sympathy as she asks” Don’t you just get so tired sometimes, darlin’?”
I want to hear Daddy say just one more time “Suits me and I’m hard to please.”
Ironic since he was most easy to please. Even more so as he grew older.
As I watched him struggle in his frail body care for my dying mother, I saw Jesus in my father pouring out his all without complaint.
I miss hearing, “You must have been out dancing,” whenever I missed his call.
And I’d ask him the same if I called and he wasn’t home.
I miss his gentle spirit, quiet manner and funny sayings. I miss a thousand things I could say this very moment.
Yet, I will take the advice of a friend and surround myself in some memories and let myself grieve today because our relationship deserves that time.
And in the midst I will make cupcakes to take for Josh’s birthday and take them to his class.
My earthly life is still overflowing with those entrusted to me and I look to a time of celebration for the anniversary of a new life created in God’s image twelve years ago.
And as our family remembers and celebrates this week among the tears, I pour out my thanksgiving like oil and wipe my tears with His robe for His sacrifice so that my sorrow is but for a moment.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
I look to my Jesus, I remember His death. But then…
Resurrection.
You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy.
Only because of the hope I have.
If I don’t answer it’s because I’m out dancing…
