Two months ago today, it was my oldest son’s fourth birthday.
Two months ago today, my phone rang at 5:30 am telling me that my Daddy was gone.
Four and a half years ago my Daddy and I sat on this couch, and he put his hand on my pregnant belly to feel Clark kicking. Now, ironically, two bags sit in the same place. Two bags of his clothing waiting to be donated.
We went to visit my Dad’s grave today. It doesn’t seem right that a man who is so alive in my mind, heart, and soul should have a grave…but he does.
It doesn’t seem right that his car is in the driveway, and he isn’t home… but it is.
It doesn’t seem real that our pool can look like this when in my mind it still echoes with our splashes and giggles….but it does. It’s hard to believe he’s not there at the filter trying to make it work again, while my brothers bring him wrenches and glasses of water…but he’s not there. And it looks like how I feel when I think of him being gone. My mother should not be ashamed of seeing it here in the public eye, because it speaks of our sorrow and our loss.
Today I cried until my boys made me smile. My husband and I talked on the way out to New York about how the boys would react to going to the cemetery. We wondered aloud what we would say to them. How we would explain. But the conversation hung in the air unfinished, like the puffy cumulus clouds that hung in the air all day pregnant with rain. How would we explain this to young boys who have had little exposure to religion or understanding of loss? We didn’t know, but when the time came, so did the words. They came so naturally and sincere that I truly believed them, creating my own faith and theirs with each word.
And as they played on their Grandpa’s grave, I felt the tears melt away (even when Simon swiped away, with a joyous squeal and flick of a mischievous 2-year-old hand, the rocks I had just laid in the shape of a heart).
We miss him because of his life not because of his death. The innocence and joy in these photographs captures the life that he has passed on. It’s okay to be sad, but we should be happy too. Happy that the pool may be empty, but our glass will be forever remain half full. How could it not be? Just look at their faces.
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