The sunshine filled the sky, touched the ground…and rested on him. We stood at Dad’s grave. Me, First Boy, Blonde Boy, and my dear aunt and uncle.
Six years I’ve made this drive, walked this lawn, and stared down on a granite stone. I notice the freshly cut lawn, the chips on the corners of his marker, and the dull layer of time and hard water spots across his name. Grief is ongoing, always present in one way or another. Ironically, grief itself never dies.
I came equipped with the usual: Starbucks cafe latte and a black sharpie. I uncap the marker and write words across the cardboard cup. I knew exactly what I wanted him to know. Just as I knew exactly what he needed to hear.
There’s something I need to tell you.
Being okay was never something I thought I’d be without Dad. But something within me has done more than just come to grips with his passing. I’ve found myself grounded and completely at peace with this new normal. And this new normal is more than just being okay–it’s also about being happy (but that’s a different blog post). That’s not to say I don’t miss Dad. I miss him tons–especially when I snap a photo of his brother, my uncle standing with my aunt and sons… I see Dad’s face looking back at me. And then it hits me all over again—but this time it doesn’t make me a puddle of tears. Instead I’m overwhelmed with the love from heaven looking back at me in all these faces.
I love you Dad.