It is such an incredible blessing to spend time with my mom. She is beautiful, godly and a true servant. The joy, however, is always tinged with the sadness of missing my dad. This is the second Christmas without him and time has not diminished the ache of our loss. If anything, I think I miss him even more as the realization that he really and truly isn’t coming back hits me. The family picture is NOT complete without Grandad.

Such a blessing to have everyone gathered together for Christmas – we miss Grandad!

There are more things I wanted to discuss with him. There are projects around the house I had hoped he would do with Daniel and David. I wanted him to see how well Joshua is doing at college and marvel over Rachel’s new car and shake his head at how much we love our cat. I wanted to watch him hug the kids and listen to them talk about their friends and school and the books they are reading. I wanted to see him hold Mom’s hand and sing enthusiastically (off key of course) to the Christmas carols at church and watch Christmas movies with us.

We love Mamie!

It is a sweet comfort to know we will see each other again. I hold tightly to the truth that death does not part forever those who love Jesus and follow Him. And I am thankful beyond measure that I had such a godly, wise, loving earthly father and that my children had close, tender relationships with their grandfather.

Mamie and her oldest grandson.

In the meantime, as we wait for heaven or Christ’s return, I am holding tight to the gift of this time with Mamie. What an honor that she comes and spends weeks with us. It is worth the effort of shuffling kids around and sharing the space. She brings such a light and joy to our family times. Even her tears are a reminder of God’s love and His design for marriage – she grieves deeply because she loved wholeheartedly. I hope that I will be as closely bound to Tim in our marriage.

A restful moment at The Refuge!

The children love her (even if she says Grandad was the “fun one”). She is always ready for a game or an outing or a story. She is faithful and steady and gifted us with her service (she must have washed dozens of loads of laundry while she was here) and finances (paying for groceries and dinners out).

Laughter and joy – a silly moment.

Our last official outing – pedicures for the girls!

We love you, Mamie! Thank you for traveling to Washington to be with us. Thank you for loving my children and my friends. Thank you for pedicures and dinners and laundry and groceries. Thank you for tissues and cold medicine and wise council. Thank you for Christmas presents and little treats and clean dishes and helping me prepare many, many salads. It was NOT long enough! Please come back soon!!

Kathy

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I’m sitting in the darkened room of my mom’s new condo. Her lovely, airy, just-the-right-size condo where she lives ALONE, without my dad. How is it possible that a year has passed already since we said goodbye to one of the most godly, energetic, full-of-life men that I have ever known? A year? A year of tears, sadness, changes, laughter, new memories, birthdays, holidays, old and new traditions. At every turn there exists both bitter loss and, at the same time, the peace and comfort that can only be found in God’s incredible care.

“I haven’t been bored since the third grade,” Dad used to say, a book (or two) in hand, a project (or two) in the works, and a place (or two) to go.

I found this picture in a stack of old family slides.

“What happened in the third grade?” I asked my mom this week, my heart full of an odd mingled joy and sadness, glad to be together with my family in Michigan but hating the reason for our celebration.

Mom’s eyes slid to the bookshelves adorning the wall in the upstairs bedroom, and she laughed, “It’s probably when he discovered the school library.”

Oh my, that must be it! I can think of dozens of pictures, snapshots on the computer and faded slides in boxes, and hundreds of images, vivid memories, that include my father with a book in his hand.

My high school honors program, yep a book and magazine article tucked in his jacket pocket.

Visiting people at the hospital – Bible in one hand and a book in the other.

The pool, beach or park – there wasn’t a single outing where Dad would venture without one or more books, usually a small tote bag full of reading material with him.

Niece Aydia already shares Grandad's love of reading!

My dad possessed a passion for learning and a library of thousands of books. He could never resist a book sale and was constantly bringing home bags of “treasures” he found at the library sale racks. I truly believe he intended to read ALL of the books on his shelves, if only he could find the time in his incredibly busy, full life.

I remember the distressed sound in his voice when we spoke over the phone while he was in the hospital, “Kath, I can’t seem to concentrate on my book. I can’t even read one of the westerns.”

Are there books in heaven?

A year since we last held his hand, kissed his cheek and said farewell.

Dear Daddy,

I miss you. Your smile reached down to the deep, scared places of my heart. That smile radiated, loud and clearly, “You are my daughter, and I love you.”

Thank you for instilling in me a curiosity and craving for knowledge. Thank you for teaching and learning and modeling a hunger and thirst for the Lord. Thank you for loving my children. My soul hurts for their loss as much as my own.

Sometimes it feels like we can’t go on without you. I can’t remember a time when you and Mom were apart for more than three days. There is an emptiness, by her side, where you should be standing.

I dreamt last month that we were all together. In the dream I kept wondering, “Where were you during that long year when Mom sold the house and moved? Why weren’t you with her? Where did you go?” But the separation was over and you smiled, and I knew I was loved.

I woke up and realized you were gone, and I sobbed and sobbed.

In the quiet moments, later in the day, I realized that dream was a gift; it was a little glimpse of heaven. Eventually we will all be together again. We will no longer ache with loss and sadness. We will be whole and complete, and we will all smile in the radiance of Christ’s glory and presence.

I love you,
Kathy

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