July 8, 2010 @ 6:18 am | Filed under: Family,Motherhood,Pure Sunshine
“Did I show you what I found?”
I paused what I was doing and looked up at my dad’s words. I shook my head. “No. I don’t guess so…”
To be honest, though, it was hard to remember just what we’d said, done, or found in the last two or three days. The hours had begun to run together and everything that had transpired over the past 24 seemed like one big blur.
The last few days have been such a snowballing of emotions and contemplations, and yet I know that as a family we’ll soon find a way to settle into a contented place of so-be-it. Life flows on, and I know it’s important to experience every tide, every wave, every calm with purpose.
My dad returned to the room and held out a small 3×5 black & white photo. I took it from him, glanced at it, and then gasped. “Oh my word! Do you know who this looks like?”
The boy in the photo – with the laughing eyes and the tiny, yet unmistakable smirk – was none other than the 21 year old version of my grandfather. But in that one small photo I saw something for the first time…something I’d not seen before…
It was a little bit of delight in an otherwise somber day.
The day had already been a tremendously long one. It had started around 3:30 AM as family members began receiving the phone call that “Dad” had passed away peacefully in his sleep. And although we’d known to expect it – and probably sooner rather than later – the finality of death is always piercing to the soul.
And that is what we were feeling now: the piercing, that ache deep within that longs only to pull him back – if for only one brief moment to…
To do what? To say what?
The truth is that we’d been careful to do it all, to say all that needed to be said, and to give all the hugs we could possibly squeeze in. To bring him back – even for the briefest second would be pure selfishness, and I don’t want to be guilty of that.
So as I sat on the sofa yesterday, holding that tiny 3×5 photo of my grandfather, I could not for the life of me keep the smile from creasing my face. It was like a gift, something I had never seen before…
For I was looking into a face with the same features as my own 21 year old son Jordan, and the realization made my throat tighten with emotion.
It was in that brief instant that I was reminded yet again that one of the great wonders of family is that bit and pieces of the ones we love are transferred on to the future generations for us to continue to love and cherish and enjoy.
They are little bits of delight to provide balm for a grieving heart.
Even though one generation of our family is now gone from this earth, they will never be far away in our thoughts and forever close in our hearts.
And in those moments when we miss them most, we can look back on moments like this one, or remember with laughter this day, and – most especially – recall the day we set out to make precious memories.
It won’t make the pain of missing them instantly go away.
But it will provide little bits of delight while we learn how to live in a world without them.
May 29, 2010 @ 8:26 am | Filed under: Family,Pure Sunshine,Soul Food
Sometimes the things that are left unsaid are every bit as poignant as the things we voice.
It seems as though each time we gather together these days there are silent reminders that we are all participating in something larger, grander, and more heroic than mere words can capture.
Summer is beginning to unravel with all its color and splendor.
We’re making memories – my family and I – breathing in each and every golden moment as it filters through the air around us, and then cradling it close in our hearts. I love these people.
We’ll have these slivers of moments in the difficult months that are sure to come.
Moments when the pain of loss robs us of a good night’s sleep. Moments when there is one less place set at the family dinners. Moments when the landscape of our family is physically altered.
Because in our hearts we’ll always have today.
And today was good.
It was really, really good.
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