Hubs and I took flowers to the cemetery. It was the hardest day since we had his service, since we lost him. I thought I was ready. I thought I was prepared for what waited for me.
I was ready to leave the flowers at the little post with his name on top. That didn't seem so hard. It was going to make me sad, just like it did on memorial day. But it was tolerable. I could handle it.
I was wrong. Today it wasn't the little post. His stone came in. It had replaced that "temporary" marker. It was permanent. It was carved in stone.
Where his stone lies is up a bit on the hill, I had only walked up two rows when I saw it. Sparkling in the sunshine. Shimmering. I could see his name from all that distance.
I'm not sure how I made it up the rows. I couldn't see through the tears falling. My knees were getting weak. I was in a place I've never been. A part of my heart died when he left us. I've spent a lot of time making sense of what has passed, it's just over four months. It's still raw and bitter, no matter how much I want to bury it. I've struggled to keep it all together. This morning I almost lost it. I felt myself slipping into a spot that I was not sure I could come back from.
I remember slipping to my knees in front of that beautiful and cold stone. I felt all the air leave my lungs. I vaguely remember sobbing. It was simply so permanent.
It's ironic, this morning my ring that holds a bit of my Daddy's ashes, was glittering and shining. It was as if he was reassuring me. Letting me know that I would be okay,
Seeing the stone, it felt like I never would be. I kept fighting back tears all morning. The fact that I wouldn't be calling him and wishing him happy Father's day was nibbling at my heart all morning.
As I sat there in the grass in front of that stone, knowing it was for the rest of time, sobbing uncontrollably my dear sweet Hubs handed me the cross we'd brought and the flowers. He also brought the water bottle so I could give those sweet flowers a drink against the brutal heat. Those silly flowers seemed like far too little of a gift for all that he'd given to all of us.
It was so hard to leave. I didn't want to walk away. I wanted to stay, kneeling where I was. I knew I had to go to work, I wanted to stay with my Daddy.
Even typing that now is bringing tears to my eyes. This process called grieving is new and strange to me. My sweet grand daughter does it better than I do. As she called her Grampa to spend Father's day with him tonight. Her Daddy is gone also. Far too young!
It's time to go, the pain today has been too much. I need to balance. I need to sort through this....
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