Yet equally striking is what hasn't happened: my dad never walks through the door of his dream home. He never drives Grace down the Willamette or teaches eager track stars how to waterski. The good people of Newberg have never known what an incredible orthopaedic they almost had, and GFU athletes have been hurt countless times without someone there to take care of them. Ephraim and Sadie never met their Boppa, and none of the grandparents want to stay up late playing Mario-Kart on New Year's Eve.
I miss my dad the most at times when I feel he should be there, and isn't. Times like this past summer at Bailey and Alfred's wedding; I remember how much he loved teasing them when they first began hanging out. Times when one of my athletes goes down and I know he could have fixed it, or provided them care when they couldn't afford it. Times when I want to crawl into his lap on that big lounge chair and be a little girl again for a few minutes. Times when my mom is alone and he should be by her side. Times when strange silences fill the space where he would be laughing, and making us laugh too.
Other times I don't miss him anymore - at least not in the physical, heart-wrenching sense. I always miss him in that soft, wish-you-were-here way, in that place where sweet memories are just beneath the surface and echoes of what is lost don't have to hurt. But now the times when I ache for him to be with us are fewer, and the moments when I am thankful for where he is now come more easily and more often.
Being together this October 1st was mostly being thankful. Thankful that we could again be together (although poor Colleen was stuck in a 13 hour shift at St. John's); thankful that it was a beautiful day; thankful that we had all of these great memories of being places and enjoying things with him; thankful for all the prayers sent heavenwards for us; and incredibly thankful that God still provides and heals two years later.
At the cemetery, early morning:
At the beach, outside Lincoln City:
At Mo's, eating my dad's favorite clam chowder:
Evening sun on the river:
4 comments:
I love what you wrote and it echoes my thoughts, but you write so much more eloquently. thanks shell-belle. I love all the pictures you chose. My son's face when he is "driving" is priceless and I love the ones of him running from Emily or chasing Ryan.
Thank you Shelle-Belle. Amy's is right - you do write beautifully. Thank you for sharing your heart. I love all the pictures and I really love you.
Thanks Michelle! Some of your sentences blew me away... you are amazing, as a writer and as a person. Now, to wash the tears off my face so i can go fold laundry. Wish I had been there with you.
Wow, I feel I shouldn't comment below the most amazing daughters and wife of a most incredible father and husband, but this is beautiful. I waver back and forth from regret to a sense of peace because I wanted so badly to honor your dad in such a big way at the wedding, but didn't quite know how to and knew that he's your daddy and will be so honored and missed at your wedding one day. We wanted to ring a bell, let a bird out of a cage, say a special word, set aside a place at the table, share words but in the end we knew he was there dancing right along with us and Alfred and I shared how much we missed him as we drove away that night. I hope you know we held him dear that day and felt so blessed knowing he approved :) I say all of this with a heart full of love and lots of tears.
Your openness in your words in "October 1" is so incredibly beautiful and a picture of God's hand in your life, the restoration He can give and the joy of knowing this isn't the end. Thank you for sharing.
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