I’ve been on a math kick for a few months. I blame it on my work with quilting projects. Mathing is important! Math plays a huge role in design, implementation, and binding a project.
It’s been 5,844 days
and I still miss him.
It’s also been 16 years if you are wondering about the significance of the number. So now for more than half of his life my son has not known his grandfather. The man with whom he shares his dimples. Army man. Family man.
It’s been 5,844 days
and some memories are still tough
even after 5,844 days.
… Going to the funeral home with Mom and my brother to finalize arrangements. (Was there texting then? What were our dinosaur phones like?) I was praying that my younger sister would make it out of Hurricane Alley and get to Iowa for the funeral because she’s the “glue” among the siblings. Flights were cancelled. Her husband drove her and the baby four hours north in order to catch a flight home. Easy tasks included physically reading and proofing the funeral folder and making changes via a landline phone call because tech wasn’t quite a part of our lives yet.
… Taking his pacemaker from the funeral home to the county hospital . . . that action wasn’t so tough. But saying to the hospital receptionist, “This is the pacemaker that was in my dad. We were told that we needed to turn it in here.” That was tough.
… Being the lector at the funeral Mass. Looking out at the family was easy. A packed church over Labor Day weekend was a sign of respect for Dad. Reading through the tears that choked my words was tough. I had choice in the verses and I deliberately chose short ones.
… My nephew, the band director, playing at the church and Taps at the cemetery. Finding his own group, rehearsing, and playing for the family. Tenacity. What a tough task we asked of him.
— My great nephew, days old, who kept us sane. “Pass the baby” is an escape from tasks one does not want to accept, a reminder of our own mortality, and an opportunity for a big family to celebrate. To celebrate the second great grandchild. The baby who screamed every time his diaper was changed. He was not happy with air on his bottom! The baby that the OB/Gyn said was going to be a girl. The baby that kept us sane!
5,844 days of missing him.
5,846 days ago, my great nephew was born and two days later Dad was gone. The ultimate alpha and omega. So many changes since then. Many celebrations. Some sorrows. Many days.
Many memories that run the gamut from one weekend in our lives.
What will be the memories that will linger in your mind from 2020?
How will you celebrate the happy times?
Where will you share your memories?
What will your writerly life reflect?
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