One year ago, I sat in the dentist office waiting room waiting for Callie to get her teeth cleaned. All of a sudden Chris walked in to tell me what happened, and the world as I knew it crumbled.
I have been thinking about this post for a couple of months now. How do you possibly sum up the hardest year of your life?
I honestly couldn't think of many profound or wise things to say. So I thought I'd look back to see what I have already written. I took myself back on a journey of the past year, and documented it here- through links to past posts (if you care to revisit them with me, click the links that are ALL CAPS) and a meaningful picture from each month of the year.
My Journey Through Grief: Year 1
In May, the first month, I wrote about ALL THE GOOD. It was the start of my fascination with sunrays. And the beginning of figuring out the meaning of GRATITUDE when life throws you unexpected and awful curve balls.
June brought us my dad's 60th birthday, my parents' 39th wedding anniversary, and Father's Day. It was a month where I struggled with DARK AND LIGHT. During this month I took this picture, which is still one of my favorite sunray pictures from this past year.
I have been thinking about this post for a couple of months now. How do you possibly sum up the hardest year of your life?
I honestly couldn't think of many profound or wise things to say. So I thought I'd look back to see what I have already written. I took myself back on a journey of the past year, and documented it here- through links to past posts (if you care to revisit them with me, click the links that are ALL CAPS) and a meaningful picture from each month of the year.
My Journey Through Grief: Year 1
In May, the first month, I wrote about ALL THE GOOD. It was the start of my fascination with sunrays. And the beginning of figuring out the meaning of GRATITUDE when life throws you unexpected and awful curve balls.
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| May 2015 |
June brought us my dad's 60th birthday, my parents' 39th wedding anniversary, and Father's Day. It was a month where I struggled with DARK AND LIGHT. During this month I took this picture, which is still one of my favorite sunray pictures from this past year.
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| June 2015 |
July was full-fledged summer and I reflected on my words of 2015: CHANGE AND BRAVE. I was angry and confused about why I had to deal with those words in such a painful way. It was also a month where we took our family trip to Camp DuNord, Maya turned 2, and life had a way of moving forward, even though I was struggling to move with it.
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| July 2015 |
With August came the end of summer, the need to fight through the last hard push of half-marathon training, and an extra dose of reality sinking in. The first few months of grief still included a fair amount of shock, but as that started to wear off, I started to look for signs of my dad's presence desperately. I was lucky to get a DAD-TERVENTION during a particularly difficult run. And with his, and my family's support, I made it through my half-marathon.
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| August 2015 |
September began with a bang: Callie started Kindergarten, I started back at work, and life got crazy and busy again. My mom turned 60, and we acknowledged the one year anniversary of my Grandma's death. All of these things continued my struggle with coping with GRIEF. We also went to a celebration of life at Lakewood Cemetery. It was both beautiful and brutal.
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| September 2015 |
October brought the changing of the seasons. It was also hard, as it was a reminder that time was moving on without my dad. I continued on my quest for light, as the end of October marked 6 months since he died. I revisited GRATITUDE and looked for wisdom as well.
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| October 2015 |
November brought the beginning of the holiday season. We made it through Thanksgiving, and at the end of this month, ADVENT began. Though Advent is typically a joyful time of anticipation, for me and my family, it was another test of our ability to fight through grief, seek out ways to be grateful, and find moments of grace in our daily lives. One thing that I was (and remain) grateful for is my beautiful family.
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| November 2015 |
In December there was much to celebrate: Callie's and Mari's birthdays, Chris' new job, and, of course, Christmas. We spent lots of time with family and friends and were loved and supported through the times that were difficult. There was lots of joy, too, as it is hard to celebrate Christmas with little children without experiencing joy. As the end of the month neared, I made a commitment for THE NEW YEAR.
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| December 2015 |
With January came the new year. A time for new beginnings. When you are grieving, it is hard to think about new beginnings. This month was cold and dark and hard. But we pushed through it and continued to look for moments of grace. They always appeared. I thought a lot about parenting during grief, and had to answer some of Callie's pretty tough questions about death. It made me reflect on the relationship that was CALLIE AND BOPS. I will forever be grateful that he was a strong and positive presence in her life for 5.5 years. (I'm also thankful that he gave her the pink laptop, which is something Maya now loves and knows it is from her Bops).
February was hard, and by the end of the month I was fed up. I believe I used the words FEBRUARY CAN FREAKING SUCK IT when writing about my struggles. It was mind-boggling to think about coming up on a year without my dad. That reality felt impossible. It was another dark, cold month and we all just really needed some sunshine. One moment of grace happened on a freezing cold morning. Those sunrays. They were out of control. I pulled over to take a picture, because...well...just look.
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| January 2016 |
February was hard, and by the end of the month I was fed up. I believe I used the words FEBRUARY CAN FREAKING SUCK IT when writing about my struggles. It was mind-boggling to think about coming up on a year without my dad. That reality felt impossible. It was another dark, cold month and we all just really needed some sunshine. One moment of grace happened on a freezing cold morning. Those sunrays. They were out of control. I pulled over to take a picture, because...well...just look.
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| February 2016 |
With March came the opportunity for an Arizona getaway. Chris and Laura celebrated birthdays, and then there was Easter. But the most memorable thing about March was an AMAZING experience my mom had. It was the ultimate moment of grace, that came at a time (leading up to Easter) that was difficult. We celebrated Easter a little differently this year, but the love of friends and family remained the same.
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| March 2016 |
So now here we are. April. The month of my 34th birthday, the month that marks the 7th birthday of this blog, and now the month that marks the 1st anniversary of my dad's death.
One whole year.
At my dad's funeral service, we sang "My Life Flows On (How Can I Keep from Singing)." A year later, these words from the first couple of verses ring very true:
My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation
I hear the clear, though far off hymn that hails a new creation.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?
Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear that music ringing.
It finds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing?
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?
I'll end by sharing this picture. I have shared it before, but I love it. It is the last picture that was taken of just me and my dad. We went to a Timberwolves game together a year ago March. We had ice cream and talked about the game and work and the girls and life.
After one year without him, I'm very grateful for the 33 years I got with him. And I'm very thankful for the love and support that has surrounded my family as we have gone through this difficult journey.
I don't know what this next year of grief and gratitude and grace will bring, but I know my dad would want us all to keep singing.
One whole year.
At my dad's funeral service, we sang "My Life Flows On (How Can I Keep from Singing)." A year later, these words from the first couple of verses ring very true:
My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation
I hear the clear, though far off hymn that hails a new creation.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?
Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear that music ringing.
It finds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing?
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?
I'll end by sharing this picture. I have shared it before, but I love it. It is the last picture that was taken of just me and my dad. We went to a Timberwolves game together a year ago March. We had ice cream and talked about the game and work and the girls and life.
After one year without him, I'm very grateful for the 33 years I got with him. And I'm very thankful for the love and support that has surrounded my family as we have gone through this difficult journey.
I don't know what this next year of grief and gratitude and grace will bring, but I know my dad would want us all to keep singing.
