Eight years, one month and five days ago I stood at that pulpit and paid tribute to my father for the last time. I haven't been back since... until yesterday. I wanted to go alone but Ryan was encouraging a family outing. The thing is, I am very private about my grief. I share a lot of things with the world but the depth of my grief is not one of them. Sometimes I can't even talk to my children about their Grandpa Ernie because it makes me cry. I still feel cheated. I'm still angry. The day I stood there and talked about him still feels fresh and new. I thought about how I could say enough things to do justice to the life he led. As I looked out into the many faces I realized I didn't have to. Every single person in that church had been touched by him. They knew him, his personality and the love he had for them. My daddy did an amazing job of telling me how proud he was of me. Always. As I stood and told the "feather for me" story I made a vow to myself to keep adding feathers for him. (I think they let you have feathers in heaven.) I wish that when he talked about the feathers I would have told him he was a feather for ME. I got lucky when I got him for my dad. I may be angry that I only got 25 years with him but they were awesome years. When people ask why I do what I do, I struggle with what to say. If you didn't know him then it might be hard to truly understand me. I try to make magic every single day because you don't know how long you have. One day I had a dad on earth and the next day I didn't. It broke my heart in ways that will never heal. I am trying to heal and I think I'm making progress. I recognize that it's a longer process than I want it to be. I was doing just fine sitting in the church until it was time to leave. I turned to walk down the center aisle and almost fell apart. I remembered that day. I followed the casket down the aisle still hoping it was all a bad dream. I might be making progress but walking out the same way is not included.
Sometimes people ask if I really believe families are forever. The short answer is they have to be. Knowing I will see him again is sometimes the only thing that gets me through the grief. Someday I will be able to talk about him without crying. Someday I will visit his grave without falling apart. Someday I will go to Rigo's and sit by myself without an unused place setting for him; and someday I will see him again.
