Finding Beauty in the Wild

There is something about grief. Grief makes you slow down. Down you go, on a road you didn't map out. Out of breath, but holding on still. Still your soul, and let yourself feel. Feel all the waves that are crashing in. In hope you are anchored, in love you can rest upon the shore. ----------------------------------

Today marks a year without you.  What a year it has been. The waves of this loss has been crazier than anything I've ever felt. I miss you, your laugh and even your corny jokes.  We are all doing the best we can.  We made it through all the "firsts" without you, because that's what you do. Right? The grandkids talk about you and their memories. Even the youngest still remembers who you are. You were such a wonderful granddad! I'm glad I witnessed that. The night before you died you sang to me and said it has been an honor to be my father.  Dad, it is an honor to be your daughter.  Always. xoxo  I carry your heart with me, (I carry it in my heart). -  E.E. Cummings.

It's been a year since my dad went into the hospital and spent seven weeks there until his final breath.  I feel like I'm digging in my heels but day after day I'm plummeting into the year anniversary of his death. Frankly, it sucks.  My birthday is this month and it was (is) a tradition for my mom and dad to call me on my birthday and sing "happy birthday".  The last few years I have told myself I needed to record this tradition while I could.  Last year, I did.  I haven't listened to it yet, I can't. I sent it to my brother on his birthday. See, I can share. wink! I was challenged to share what courage looked like in my life right now.  And this is where I'm at. I need to live. See it all, dream, feel everything, be present in my personal life. Doing things afraid, because this life is so short, why not live it now!  (You can take the challenge at MelissaAulds.com/blog)

I have had a habit of counting the weeks since my dad's passing. Maybe because I've been pregnant four times...not sure. Weird. You know that count down you do: The closer you get to that 40 weeks, the anticipation, the expectation. Life is about to change. But there will be no sweet new bundle in my arms today at week 40. Yet there is an expectation for my mourning to turn into dancing. I have always liked to dance, but there's this tendency to give a rip what anyone else thinks. At the beginning of the year I asked for a word, my word was DANCE. I turn 35 this year and I told my husband that I wanted to go dancing for my birthday in March. A few weeks ago a marriage class with dancing opened up at our church. With a twinkle in my eye, I asked if he'd mind taking the class. He is so willing to step outside his comfort zone for me! (Heart you BIG!) We walk in the class and written on the board, "You have turned my wailing into dancing, removed ...