the measure of time

Papa's "glimmer"

It's hard to believe an entire year can pass so quickly, although I've lived long enough to know the certainty of that phrase.  Our time is measured in so many ways -the baby's growth, the preschooler's handwriting, the high schooler's marching band season, summer breaks between school years...the passing of a loved one.

It's hard to believe a year has gone by since dad died.  Last year, I wished this day would come quickly for his sake:  that the pain and suffering would end for him and he could rest peacefully in the arms of God.  Now, I wish this day hadn't come so quick.

I am peaceful knowing my dad is loved and cared for; but on this side of heaven, I still weep.  Not everyday, but just now and then.  Times and experiences my family shared in the past year are pieces of life I wish I could share with him in person.  Band concerts, fencing tournaments, birthdays, ballet, golf... all those little moments we want to share with our parents regardless of how far away they live.

At the onset of hospice care last summer, Dad said he'd always be watching us.  It's just not fair I can't observe his reaction.  Funny thing is, and perhaps fortunate too, I know exactly how he'd react; what he would say.  "Nothing is fair!"  Then he'd likely chuckle, inform me of the Iowa weather reports, tell me how his golf game suffers and close with, "You're doing fine, dear.  Keep up the good work!"

So,  I will keep trying.  The noisy, cheering crowd of saints (no doubt marching) in my head will remind me of their presence here today and perhaps by next year my measure of time will feel more joyful.