c.b.

since the moment i knew he had gone from this earth, my mind has been on replay.  thinking of this time and that.  imagining the sorrow and challenges of his girls left behind.  i step into that familiar hamster wheel of grief.  wondering how he's making his way.  hoping a man he knows will greet him with the dogs and the horses.

he's resting now in the place that he prayed for.  and he's not far.  she says she can still feel him.  i told her she'll never be alone because his voice will always whisper truth in her mind.  she'll speak his words without realizing and it will bring a smile to her face.  someday.

weeks ago she told me that we were never so brave as in the old days.  and that replay button continues in my mind.  i didn't realize it at the time.  but all he was saying was you don't have to be brave.  i know what your potential is.  just listen to what i'm saying.  just do what i tell you to do and there is no reason to worry.   he was like that with the horses too.  he would say, "come here son."  they sensed it just like we did:  his praise and displeasure.  we were brave because he believed in the things we could not see.  he was teaching us a lesson in pure, simple, faith.

today we send him off.  and i know it is with love and cherished memories that he will be lifted up.  i pray that sorrow and sadness will not be constraints.  that his family will always feel him in the things they say and do.  that they will remember his wisdom and faith and find comfort in the not knowing and the not seeing.  grief is familiar like an old yellow sweatshirt, but it doesn't fit everyone the same.  she's the only one who was always beautiful in yellow, but he wouldn't want her to wear it in sadness.  he's where he always wanted to be.  sitting in the front row watching his girls go a clean round.  and there's only sweet, happy, goodness in that.

amen.