Thirteen years ago...you breathed your last breath and let go. How is it possible that it has been 13 years already! Seems like forever and a minute all at the same time. I have been anticipating this year's anniversary for awhile...at least my subconscious has been preparing. You've appeared in my dreams, memories and I've noticed I have been extra emotional this past month. Some years the anniversary of your death comes and I remember the day (as always) and miss you, think of you and move on, but some anniversaries come and they tear at my heart, and the grief feels raw for a moment and I cry at all you've missed these past 13 years. This year's anniversary is the later.
Recently I've thought a lot about the type of father you were. You were involved in my life and you included me in yours. You showed up and participated. You drove me to school, piano lessons, chaperoned field trips, took my shopping, cheered me on at sporting events, listened to endless choir concerts. You welcomed my friends into our home and I always thought of you and mom as the "cool" parents. Even though you were a pastor and we were a Christian family, we were allowed to dress up and go trick-or-treating on Halloween, go to school dances, hang out at friends houses. You took me on vacations and bought me a first car. You loved mom. Some of my best memories I have of you and her, is dancing in the living room on Christmas Eves to Kenny G. Christmas was always magical at our home. Try as I might, there is no replicating it for my kids. We have wonderful Christmases but they are different now. Different now that you are gone.
We sold our first home this past year. It was very hard for me to decide to move. Partially because you helped us buy our first home. You helped us through the process and renovating it. Selling it felt like losing a part of you. However, with our ever growing family, it became necessary to let it go. So after thinking a long time about how to include you in our new home, I finally came up with an idea. At the end of the hallway, I hung your picture up. The one I have had since your memorial service 13 years ago. Above your picture is a quote from your favorite passage of scripture on a canvas (Psalm 27:1). I thought you would like it here. I joke that you have a great vantage point to watch the kids come and go and grow up. You watched Matthew crawl down that hallway for the first time a few months ago, and you watch the kids enter and exit the bathroom everyday while brushing their teeth for school. You've watched a myriad of kids go in and out and in and out the garage door with bike helmets, scooters and skinned knees, and you've seen me carry the central vac hose in and out probably a gazillion times. Every time I pass by your picture, I smile. I thought it might bring me sadness, but I actually enjoy knowing where I can see your smiling face. So there you are on the wall watching all the craziness that is the Dahlhouse!
Rest in peace my sweet dad...I love you more than any words could ever say...xoxoxoxo
1 comment:
There is no logic or predictability to grief. I'm so glad you let it be what it's going to be whenever and however it comes up. Thank you for sharing your experiences and how you keep honoring him and allowing his presence in your new home. I miss him too, and it's so good to remember these things about him. Lots of love to you today, cousin! <3 -Joy
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