10 Years

This Evening I sat upon the couch, editing photos of our living room, reflecting on the day, and the warm summer evening. I spent a good part of the day fretting about and monitoring our middle son. After a collision playing freeze tag at the park he incurred a concussion. In the end we ended up taking our 4th trip to emergency in the last year… it seems he is our accident prone boy.

My heart sat between the place of worry and self talk “Don’t fret. He will be ok. Just stay calm.”

antique piano stoolWhen you have lived and lost, you live differently. Perhaps it is in realizing that it isn’t worth letting the small things steal joy and life. Perhaps it is in knowing how infinitely delicate this life is, and how at any moment, it could all change. In the blink of an eye, those you love may no longer be there to share life with. The laugh, the cry, the voice… a distant memory.

A little over a week ago I watched as my brother walked my sister down the aisle. Preceded by my niece skipping down the aisle while throwing flower petals, with a look of pure joy evident in the ear to ear grin across her face. I watched my father-in-law and dad’s best friend lead my sister and her love through their wedding vows with a twinkle in his eyes. We laughed, and celebrated… and we cried. So many tears….

I stood outside peering at all the life taking place through the entirely glass pavilion, soaking in the moment. My mom, a beautiful woman celebrating 60 years of life. My 5 siblings all present, some with their life long loves- all of them pursuing life with purpose. And then I could not help but smile at the 6 grandsons and 2 grand daughters who brought so much energy and joy into that reception space. Dancing, laughing, photo bombing… This is the legacy of my dad. It is really, only the start of his legacy. And even though he isn’t here to witness any of it, for the first time in a long time, I could simply celebrate his legacy. antique piano stool, dahlia arrangement in ironstone

I miss him so terribly. I know he would have loved each and everyone of his grand babies fiercely. I know he would have celebrated all of the marriages of his children. Such life exists because he lived! It is truly bittersweet to not have him sharing in these big and small life moments. Yet I thank God that after 10 years of sorrow, mourning, and feeling the gaping wound of his death… here we are. A family, finding healing and restoration. Celebrating joy, and living with hope.

I think that sometimes, when you lose someone- a parent, a child, a friend… you feel pressure as though at some point you have to stop grieving. At some point, it shouldn’t affect you and you must “move on.” Where that idea ever came from I don’t know. I feel the loss of my dad most days. Sometimes it still catches me in the back of my throat and threatens to send tears trickling down my cheeks… out of the blue eyes that came from him. I married the son of his best friend, and my dad is never far from me. I am so thankful for that. Through all of these life moments, I think of him. I can’t help but wonder what he would think to know that my little sister just married a man who used to be the young son of his dear friend. You just can’t write this stuff?! His legacy is here… all the relationships he fostered, the friends he made… he’s still such a part of our lives. And then the tears roll. And I feel so happy to celebrate all that I can thank my dad for.

antique piano, dahlia arrangement

Thank you dad for being such a good friend. Thank you for loving others deeply and caring for them. Thank you for joking, laughing, and making us all laugh. Thank you for asking silly questions to the girls in the grocery store checkout line about their tattoos, hair color and piercings. Thank you for loving your wife and making a life with her… growing a family, even though it was crazy sometimes with 6 kids. Thank you for dragging us to the other side of the world and giving us some of the best moments of our lives. Thank you for being humble and telling us about the very real struggles you faced. Thank you for giving kids confidence. Thank you for building leaders. Thank you for telling me you were proud of me. Thank you for praying for my husband. Thank you for praying for my friends. Thank you for living well on this earth.

Thank you.

Sometimes, because my dad lost his life through suicide, I have struggled with feeling free to be proud of my dad. Of who he was. As though that one act cancelled a life time of loving my dad and feeling proud of him. The little girl in her white tennis shoes kicking her raquet… bragging that the coach was her dad. Maybe it’s not the “right” way to feel… but part of me struggled for a long time just wishing he could have been strong enough to make it through. And then I came to a point of realizing that I simply don’t know what he was facing. He was in a battle… it sucks. But I am so proud of my dad. So proud. I am so proud of who he was, and the legacy he has here on this green earth.

-Miss Ash

2 thoughts on “10 Years

  1. Ashlea….what you wrote was so beautiful!! So real. So honoring. So powerful. Thank you for sharing as it was a blessing to read this. ❤️

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