Saying Good Bye is Never Easy

The call came early Monday morning. 
A week ago.

Memorial Day. 

The catch in his voice. 

I knew. 

I hoped it was something else. 

Some other reason. 

My brother had called to share that our 
beloved Dad had journeyed to be with the Lord. 

Gone; from this earth. 

That deep ache; the constant pain rubbed raw. 

Another loss. 

The walk of grief well worn. 
The path of gratitude in need of work. 

I begin the journey to my dad. 
This time to say good bye. 

Making arrangements all so familiar. 
My brothers and I worked together to honor our dad. 
We laughed at memories. 
We rejoiced over sweet reunions in heaven. 

The time together is good. 
My farmer and the rest of the kids join us. 
These moments; are defining. 
Setting the stage for the journey ahead. 
Our parents are gone. 

We now, the Senior members.

With Military Honors we lay dad to rest. 

We turn from that Cemetery for the 2nd time. 
We leave behind our parents. 
The ones who gave us life. 
Who poured into our beings to make us who we are. 
69 and 73. 
Both seem too young. 
Yet both in God's timing. 
Both rejoicing with Elijah. 
We begin our journey back to my brother's house. 
Time; ever moving forward. 
The march. 
The necessity. 
There is still much to do. 
A home full of memories; 
needing to be sorted and dispersed. 

A strange process.

We part ways again. 
My brothers and I. 
Me back to my family. 
They to theirs.
All of us changed. 

These losses continually remind me;
 we were not meant for death. 
Our journey; Life. 
Life everlasting. 
All that is within us recoils at death. 
The pain. 
The ache. 
Our purpose is life.
 My heart is heavy and I am sad. 
There has not been much time to grieve. 
A friend sent a note. 
Dad's death a double sorrow. 

She's so right. 
The memory thief steals the mind. 
Death steals the body. 
But God holds them both. 

We now, are the memory keepers. 
And those memories were beautiful. 
A legacy of life and fun. 
Service and faith. 

Thank you Dad for your service to this country. 

Thank you for instilling that love is us. 
We are grateful for the love of the ocean and family. 
No matter how hard things get; we stick together. 

 I feel weary. 
Weary from the weight. 
From the week. 
Grief heavy. 
Grief is work. 
Taking those wise words from my dad,
Chin up, shoulders straight, fly right. 

Thanks dad. 

Psalm 136:1
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. 
His love endures forever.

Distracted

The girls leave and strangely, I find myself alone. 

This does not happen very often. 

I expect to feel overwhelmed and sad.

Yet surprisingly I feel fine.
This might be due to the fact that we have a financial appointment in 2 hours

and I have not gathered any of the information required.

So, I begin the sprint to find obscure pieces of paper that I know
I have seen in the past few months. . .but not quite sure where.

I soon realize that I have lost much over the past few months
but not my ability to be easily distracted. 

I head to the timer.

I usually set it for 15 mintues.

 But given my state of mind, I try for 5.

This works for a bit.

I get the dishwasher stacked before I notice the dryer has finished.

I switch the laundry and look for a few pieces of the missing paperwork. . .and the timer goes off.

 I have successfully not stayed on task for 5 minutes.

 I head back to the kitchen. 

Set the timer again. 

And get to work. 

I repeat this process until I have gathered all the paperwork and accomplished nothing in the kitchen and we are now late to leave for the appointment.

It is good that my farmer possesses the same skills in tardiness that I do.

We head to the appointment. 

It is raining.

We don't talk much. 

I made this appointment because things haven't been that great on the farm and the thought of cancer and being left to mother the 4 left in the home and take care of the farm seems daunting. 

So, I make the appointment with a financial advisor. 

I think my farmer is not that thrilled about the idea. 

I probably would feel the same way. 

But here we are, on our way, late. 

The meeting goes well.
We have assignments.
And I like that. 

We get home and my farmer dashes off to the barn. 

There is a milking machine to fix before milking can start.

There is a new circulator pump to put in downstairs before he can light the wood fired boiler.
.

I think I have mentioned a few too many times how chilly I might be in the mornings.

And  in the afternoons I have to go outside to get warm, because it's too cold in the house. 

Maybe I mentioned it a few times. . .
So, tonight, I will have heat.
And when I wake in the morning, maybe I will be a little more eager to get out of bed.

So, I have tried to write a whole post without mentioning Elijah.
But I can't.
Because I think about him all day.
Everywhere I turn there are memories of him.
And every breath I take hurts.
 I still don't know what this life is supposed to look like without him.
I gaze at his pictures. . .
I reach to touch.
How I long for just another moment.
During the summer, as I prepared for him to leave for boot camp and military life,
I began keeping a journal of bible verses to write to him; to encourage him while he was gone.
Now, they encourage me. . .
Here are a few.

2 Samuel 22:33
It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect.

Psalm 119:105 
Your Word is a lamp to my feet. 
Psalm 121
I life my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, 
The maker of Heaven and Earth.

And in my darkest hour, Elijah,  I tell myself. . .I'll see you again. . .
Miss you with all my heart.