Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life. You stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes; with your right hand you save me.
Yesterday marked nine months since my sincere, intelligent, funny dad made his debut in
Heaven. I still struggle to wrap my head around that every day. Life is so strange in this way. It
has kept on going. Even if we did not notice it, it never once has stopped. Think about that for just a second. The clock in which we live our lives around has never stalled for even part of a second. When serious, life changing, challenging things occur……. It continues.
I remember a friend telling me several years ago when her dad died how a couple of days later she and her mom had to get some groceries at the grocery store. She said she could not believe how people were just walking around filling their carts and buying their things; not even noticing that the most important man in her life had just passed away.
Is it possible this is the exact reason for our resilience to keep going? Had that entire grocery
store shut-down that day, then what? Would we grieve differently? Would we have had more
time? The answer is no.
No number of tears, hours that pass or change in environment will cause us to grieve differently. And maybe time is a blessing in disguise. How does everyone just go about their lives when something shattering has just happened? But we just do. We have to.
Life is a timeline of events, and we learn how to react from every single thing we encounter in
our time here. For instance, I know my grandmother and my dad went to Heaven, I am firm in
my faith that I will see them again there. But…. I am confident that I would not have this solid
faith without Rowyn. She was a key player in my timeline. She brought me to God, she has
become a blessing for me.
The exact things that make me so sad about all three of these irreplaceable people, are the exact things that have blessed me. I miss my dad every day of my life. I picture his hands, the way he would hold his hand to his face when he was thinking about something hard. The way he would laugh when he was telling a story. The way he looked at my kids. And the way he loved my mom. Those are my blessings. That the man he was…. I got to call him my dad. Wow. This month our childhood home, mom and dad’s old farmhouse of 36 years, is preparing to go on the market. I am anxious, I am sad, and I am happy all at the same time. It’s the only “back home” I have ever known. I told my son who is barely six, that Nana was moving. When he asked me why, I told him that Nana and Papa had planned to move out of the house for a long time, and now that Papa is in Heaven it is a good time. He said something so remarkable. He said, “Mom, every time I think about Nana moving I think about that big baseball game we had there do you remember that?” Tears began to flood my eyes. “Yes, I remember,” is all I could say. The day he was talking about was the last time we had a big family BBQ there, my dad was pitching, and we all played. It was so much fun. Easton would have been 4, but he remembered it. And then it hit me. We could never recreate that game again. Even if we had the same yard and the same people. It is now our memory, with or without the house.
I found the blessing.