our bench at Grayson Lake

When I saw our bench tonight,

the place we went when we had some serious talking to do,

I immediately and loudly thought 

(in fact, I was yelling in my head); 

"You should be sitting there." 

And I did some serious self talk.

Even after almost 7 years it's sometimes hard to shake a habit.

"I wonder what you would be thinking if you were here, 

watching our third born and her family play where our children did occasionally. 

And why didn't we bring our kids to the lake together more often?"

I had a moment of anger and frustration,

knowing the answer:

There was always work waiting for you,

demanding your attention,

keeping you preoccupied even when you weren't in your office.

For a split second I wondered if you'd be with us tonight or if you'd be in your office. It's time to be getting ready for school to begin again. A busy time. But knowing that they'll be heading back soon, I knew you'd make time to be with us.

I know you loved us. 

You did a wonderful job providing for us.

I'm not wealthy, but you made sure I do not have any financial cares.

You'd be proud of our kids.

You'd think the world of their families.

You'd rejoice with every victory and pray over every trouble.

I also want to say that I caught a glimpse, the last year or so that you were here, of a man who had determined that taking time to play with his family, frequently, was going to be a priority. I wish we'd had longer for that to happen. 

Thank you for making sure I don't have to work so I can play and visit at will.

Life is very different from what I had planned,

but life's still good. 

Still beautiful.

Still full.

Still unfolding.

Still revealing new adventures.

Thanks for making this life possible.

Grief can be triggered by the most mundane, ordinary things. Once it begins, it seems to move in waves. After being raw and transparent in this post,

it is ebbing. I'm thankful for the therapy writing is for me.