Are You Ready?

I haven't written about it. I rarely talk about it. I cry occasionally about it. 

It's been over a year since my dad passed away. It seems surreal that he's not here anymore. I bet most of you can recall a time when you felt the same way about someone you loved dearly. Maybe you're walking through that season right now.

 Dad was diagnosed with cancer and opted to have his bladder removed, giving him the best chance at survival and living "life as normal". The reality was quite different than the limited information the doctors gave us. Life was never normal for my dad, or the rest of our family, ever again. 

• He spent most of his time in and out of the hospital. 
• He grew increasingly impatient with the doctors, nurses, and us. 
• He was tired. 
• Tired of being sick. 
• Tired of the hospital. 
• Tired of trying to hang on so my mom wouldn't be alone.

So we let him know it was ok to rest. Two days before his 85th birthday, we said goodbye to my dad. He spent his 85th birthday with Jesus, celebrating like we can only imagine, which, I'm sure,  is not even close to what it really was like. We celebrated on Earth. We had a cake, we sang 'Happy Birthday,' and his cake had both an 8 and a 1, signifying his first heavenly birthday. 

That year, my dad didn't receive a gift, but the rest of our family did. 

My niece gave all of his daughters and grandchildren a flash drive. On it were hours of her interviewing her Papa. He was, by far, the best storyteller we have ever known. My mom watched it. My sisters watched it. My children and I still have not watched it. I heard it's amazing and he's funny, and we will laugh when we finally decide to watch it. But I'm not so sure. 

I still haven't read his obituary. 

My best friend wrote a comment on Facebook under it. She grew up with him. She had many memories of my dad, and she shared a few of them. It was too much for me. I closed my laptop and cried. I never read another comment and still have not read the accompanying obituary, which I have heard was lovely. 

I also have not visited his gravesite since his headstone was placed there. I went once when there was no marker. I walked past another man's grave and saw a name that looked in my peripheral vision to be my dad's name. It wasn't. But it was close enough to make my heart sink. I was glad I didn't know exactly where his body was buried and that I didn't see his name engraved on that stone.. 

My son asked me the other day if I thought I was ready to visit my dad's grave. 

I said yes. I think I lied. I don't think I am. 

• I'm not ready to read the obituary. 
• I'm not ready to read the kind words and memories people took the time to share.
•  And I'm not ready to visit his gravesite and see his name on that stone, sitting next to a blank space waiting for the day my mom joins him in Paradise. 

So no. I'm not ready. Maybe soon. But not now. I'm just not ready. See you soon Pop.🌈💕

Blessed are those who mourn,
 for they will be comforted. 

Matthew 5:4