The wild wind is whipping the icy rain against the dirty windowpanes. I’ve taken down the Christmas decorations and the tree, and vacuumed up a couple of weeks worth of dust. The party’s over.
One year ago today, we buried my dad. My mind returns to that scene again and again, remembering the Marine bugler playing Taps, and then the other smartly-dressed Marine folding the flag and giving it to my mom. Remembering us putting a rose each onto his coffin, a final goodbye kiss. Remembering the sound of the dirt as the gravediggers filled it in again. Remembering the crowded church, and how proud I was of our kids as they read lessons and gave their own reflections on the life of their dear grandfather, aka Spike. Why Spike? He never told us.
Wish he could walk in the door and joke with us like he did before. But that will have to wait til heaven.
Time waits for no-one, they say. Day follows night, follows day, and before you know it, years have flown past and you look in the mirror and notice that the face looking back at you is not as young as you remember it to be.
And so the rhythm of life goes on. Parties follow those stripped-down days spent working. Work follows those joyous days shared with loved ones.
And, as my cousin would say, it’s all good.
Because God is in his heaven, and all is right with the world. Though I may not see the whole picture, or understand the why’s and wherefore’s, I can step out into 2012 with a spring in my step and hope in my heart.
Well, I could if my foot weren’t still so sore...
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