9 months: 2 days

Nine months and two days.
It still feels so surreal.

Sometimes I call my Mom’s cell phone and when I get her voicemail it’s my Dad’s voice.
Even on their answering machine at home.

This morning I came across an email he sent me when Boone was born.
I couldn’t read it.

I still haven’t shared how my Dad died.
But I will at some point. I don’t want to forget the details of June24th.

Andy’s mom died when we were 26 years old.
One month later we found out we were pregnant with Wyatt.
There is joy in the midst of  pain.
I asked him the other day if he still misses her, if he still gets sad 9 years later.
And his answer was yes. He was in Michigan last week and said he started to call her.
And then I cried, because I don’t want to not ever be sad. There is a connection in that with my Dad and most importantly with God.
There is this closeness in His healing that is so hard to put into words. It’s so sacred. It’s the love of a Heavenly Father with his daughter.

I was so ready to move into the Fall and Winter. I was just ready to get the Summer past me.
And now as Spring is approaching we are closer to the one-year mark.
And I am more sad lately. More of reality setting in. More shock wearing off.

Boone has been praying lately that God would bring Grandad  back to earth.
His sweet spirit has seen me cry these past 9 months and 2 days more than anyone.
And that’s ok.
My kids need to see my grief so they know it’s ok to grieve.
They also see my joy and that God is still so very good.