Our lives have changed. They will never, ever be the same. Our hearts are broken, but will mend, in time. Sadness will return to smiles, someday. On July 5, at 9:10 p.m. Papa Skip, drifted into the light of Heaven while Sue and I held tight to his hands and whispered I love you's into his ears. He is not with us, but he is not gone. He will never be gone from our hearts. My sweet Dad.....I love you Daddy, and miss you every day.
Dad was prepared to go. He was certain that Mom was well taken care of, and finally conceded the fight he had so valiantly been fighting for so long. Does that make it easier for us? In some ways, yes. Only because we were somewhat prepared. We had seen the long decline. We had talked about it as a family. But, the enormous hole his passing left in all our lives was unexpected and insurmountable. We feel like a wheel on our car has suddenly gone missing, leaving us careening.
The service was perfect. I am certain that Dad was happily observing from Heaven. His eulogy was poignant and meaningful to everyone who knew him. The Empress played her violin for her Papa Skip one last time. The Patriot Guard headed the procession to the cemetary and we were met by the National Guard who saluted my Dad with 21 guns, played Taps, and presented my Mom with an American flag and bullet casings. You see, my Dad was a Veteran. He was a proud and true American who loved his country and proudly served it. He had wanted a military service, and I believe he would have been very pleased.
After the service we all gathered in the neighbors' back yard to celebrate the honorary mayor of Parkview Court. For Mom, Sue and I, in particular, the gathering was like family. We grew up in that neighborhood, those folks love us, and loved my Dad. I am quite sure that he was there, in that backyard, with us.
When we arrived home we found a 4th birthday card for Greer, from Papa Skip, in the mail. I cried and cried, then smiled. He sent that card three days before his death. He loved his grandson. Greer is too young to appreciate the magnitude of the card, but one day we will sit down and talk about it. For now, it sits on the side table by my bed. I see it every night and every morning. I trace the writing with my finger. His writing.
So, our lives trudge on. Some days are more difficult. I remember his bigger than life laugh. His hugs. I can hear him say, I love you. I have listened to a voicemail he left on my phone, too many times to count. I miss him. I miss him.
I believe in God, so did Dad. He wasn't outwardly religious, but on occasions it would come out. He had a private relationship with Christ. Today, he is with the Lord. Standing tall in his light. Today, my Dad can breathe. I am sure he is enjoying the companionship of his best bud Sarge, playing slob ball, and drinking a cold beer. He is delighting in our lives as he watches from his spot on high.
I love you Dad. Sooooo much. I miss you every minute, every day. But, one day, I will see you again.
