In had an exchange this morning with my younger daughter, Grace. She had just found out through Facebook that a friend’s mother died several months ago. This friend is her age and I could tell she was upset by this idea of death and the loss of a mother. We exchanged “I love you’s” via text and I thought, once again, how precious life is.
In honor of this exchange with my daughter, and the three-year anniversary since my father’s death, I want to post the following blog that I wrote way back when. I like to take time to know my family history, and to consider those who have gone before. I value appreciating the span of time: past, present, future. Here goes . . .
I love June. It is the time of weddings and graduations. A time of beginnings, surprises, freshness, and strawberries. And with all those good things, there too, is loss.
|Sitting on the back patio at my father's house, during his memorial, reflecting.|
Last year at this time, I was planning a memorial for our family and the community to bid farewell to my father. It was a smallish affair, 60 people or so. The food was delicious, the wine mellow. My father would have loved to attend; he was quite a connoisseur. He, like his mother (my grandmother), loved good friends and good food, especially when they came together for special occasions.
At that ceremony, where we celebrated my father’s life, we wandered through his home and gardens, reflecting upon the good times. We built this ranch together over twelve years; there were many outside projects, ranch meetings, dinners and family meetings. We were a cohesive unit; we spent time together and we did stuff together. We all miss my father’s love for beauty, hedonistic delight, mental figurings, and his big heart and warmth. It was a loss we all knew would happen though I think one can never truly be ready.