A couple of weeks ago it dawned on me that Tom’s birthday and Easter were on the same day this year. Then I took a deep breath as I realized that April 20th is also the 6th month anniversary of our girls being in Heaven. When I shared this with Tom his face got so sad. Neither of us could imagine a day without our girls let alone 6 months.
As we sat there discussing what our Easter/Tom’s birthday weekend would look like, Emily and Ben here for the weekend, Threads of Life Quilt Ceremony, church, play practice and possibly a hike somewhere fun, I had an overwhelming thought. We get to decide how we respond to these dates on the calendar. Six months, a year, three years – these time markers will all come and we will get through them by the Grace of God. Today we are six months closer to seeing our girls again in Heaven.
Today we will celebrate Jesus. Today we will celebrate Tom. Today we will thank God for his Grace and for taking care of our girls until we are with them again. We are six months closer to that day and for that I am grateful.
I couldn’t ask for a better husband and father to our children. I am so blessed!
Happy Birthday Tom, I love you to Heaven and back.
I think it’s inevitable not to acknowledge the fact that my dad’s a warrior. In the past six months, he’s been weighed down by more emotional stress than most people deal with in their entire lives amassed. Granted, I haven’t always made it easy. I push him for more time with Amity, a trip downtown, a latte from Starbucks. Every time, he handles it as he always has; imploring me to stay home so he can spend time with his family.
My dad’s a family man. He’s always been that way and always will be that way. Therefore, losing the core of our family, Abigail and Anna, was the worst possible form of torment for him. Generally, when you see my dad at the grocery store or at the theatre, he asks you how your day was and displays a genial mood. This is at the core of what makes him warrior strong. He is able to acknowledge the gaping hole left in his life and the pain that fills it at times while still being a warm, genuine human being. He hasn’t stopped being a dad either. He calls me nearly everyday on his way home from work, greets Ben and I at the airport by jumping out behind a pillar, and makes an array of delicious meals as our short order cook.
Dad, I wish you the best birthday that you are currently able of having. Allow some joy to trickle into your life, whether it’s through Linus or theater or whatever God has planned for you. I miss you terribly when I’m down South. I think most often of the days when we would turn up Muse on your stereo and jump from couch to couch in the fancy living room. I hope that we continue to create some good memories and try to pick up the shards of our lives and figure out how they fit together differently now. You have the strength of a warrior and the heart of a saint. I look up to you for guidance on this confusing road we are currently traveling. I love you too much to adequately put to paper, but I hope this is a good start.
All my love and then some,