, , , , , , , , ,

{Each night my fingers fly freely across the keys purging every thought from my mind and heart. This excerpt started in a message to a friend and then found its way in my writing last night. And yes…I know it’s incomplete–and I’m okay with that}

11-21-2012 Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The husband, boys and I will be going to Dad’s grave. I haven’t been there since the funeral…

The boys made drawings for Papa. Blonde Boy wants to bring flowers—a lot of them. We’ll stop for Starbucks and I’ll buy one for me and one for Dad. We’ll spread a blanket on the grass, eat Ding Dongs* and maybe play a game of UNO. And then I will have had enough and want to be left alone.

And they will leave me there—alone.

Alone on the blanket.

Alone staring at the stone marking his grave.

Alone with an empty cup of Chai Tea, but fixated on his full cup of Café Latte gone cold.

And I’ll wonder what to do. What words to say out loud, write in my journal, or just remain present in the reality I am alone.


And I want to be alone with him. But I will hate that it has to be like this.

And I don’t care for the brilliant people who remind me it’s all a part of life. Don’t they get it? Don’t they know death leaves an aching void? Death seems so very unnatural. So contrary to life—to God and all He is. And yet still, I will sit there at my father’s grave and mourn life lost among many countless graves.

And then I will have had enough and want to be surrounded by those I can touch.

And they’ll come back; the husband, First Boy and Blonde Boy will come for me. We’ll leave the drawings and the Café Latte. We’ll climb into the van resume the saga of the revolutionary war on audio book and drive homeward.

Not the normal Thanksgiving.


If you are grieving this Thanksgiving my heart and prayers are with you. May the God of all comfort cover you on this day and the days to follow.  ~L

 *When I was a teen I discovered Dad was hiding a stash of Ding Dongs in a tiny cupboard in the kitchen. He packed one in his lunch every day. Apparently, he thought someone else would eat these chocolate treats! This is one of First Boy’s favorite stories about his Papa. So much so that in 2010 when I asked what he wanted to give Papa for his birthday he immediately answered, Ding Dongs.