oh it's hard

This is some tough stuff. My heart has a dull and chronic ache. There are moments, even hours, when I am able to see that I will survive this, even thrive emotionally again someday. Then there are the dark moments, hours, even whole days when I am captured like a prisoner in a cell, gates firmly locked, no key in sight. I was telling a colleague this week how mysterious death is, how it grips and releases then grips again. I wish you were here Dad, sitting here by side, so I could look in your eyes, feel your hands, big and rough as they always were. You'd always hold them, and me, whenever I wanted. As my mind has been returning to moments from years gone by, I recall how treasured, how cherished, you always made me feel. Seemed so ordinary to me as a kid, I never knew anything else, and yet now as a parent myself I see the challenge of delivering unconditionally the way you always did. How you gave - tirelessly - for all the days in my memory. I think often about what you're up to, who you had lunch with today, and what your favorite discovery is so far. Is it the view? Is it the blooms of the trees, brighter than they ever were here on earth? Perhaps it's the smile on Jesus' face that greets you warmly each and every morning. Maybe it's getting to throw the unsnagged line into the pristine beauty of a mountain lake with your dad by your side. Are you talking about the years he missed? What's it like to catch that many big fish? How is Gram? Bet she was thrilled to wrap her arms around her precious son again. Do you remember what it is I hope to hear when I arrive? "Scott, your mother and father are waiting for you." I can not wait.