Update 7 | December With Dad

Every summer growing up, Dad would take us to local cemeteries around the world whenever we were on vacation.

“Dad, this is SO creepy.”

He would say:
“It’s not… it’s filled with stories.”

He loved human-interest stories. I bet he never thought he would become one himself!  ⬇️

December may be over, but apparently, The Washington Post thinks Dad’s story from last month is worth talking about 🤷🏻‍♀️



I suppose the word is out now…

He is gone 😞


Before and After.

Then and Now.

Cher had it right…
“If I could turn back time.”  

But then I watch my little girl twirling in the backyard as she chases bubbles.

If we turn back time, there won’t be room for new memories.

New life. New love.

I mourn for old love.

I mourn for “one more time.”

Despite my efforts, crying does nothing to change what is.

So I lay here in the quiet.  

Muffled sounds of life outside saying, “Onward.”

I type that word so casually because my Dad is just on a trip somewhere.

His next adventure.

Where are you, Dad?


Is it possible for something not to be true if you don’t accept it?

I feel five again asking him a silly life question waiting for his wise, satisfying reply.

…But there is no reply.


I know we helped Dad transition in the most peaceful way possible, each of us holding his hands… expressing our love. ❤️

Whispering how he is draped in a warm blanket of peace, surrounded by light and love.

My brother serenading him with Elvis songs. ‘Love Me Tender’… ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’

Playing some greats:
‘Let It Be’
‘Time After Time’
‘Butterfly Kisses’

We positioned him by the big picture window in the living room and at one point he motioned to open the curtains wide.

The sky was bright blue, the sun casting a warm inviting glow.

A portal to whatever was next.


The day after was… not slow.

Everything whirring around – kids, paperwork, funeral arrangements, work ‘away message’ replies, obituary questions, announcement calls…

Am I supposed to be tending to my emotions?  When?

I’m pretty sure my kids ate three bagels that day, all prepared differently, at their request.

Mom and I took down her Christmas tree that evening.

She said that was Dad’s job for 50 years 😞


I busy myself with logistics, planning, and paperwork.

Knowing the fraction of a second that I let my mind go “there” it will all rush in.

So I don’t go there. Not yet.

I haven’t told my kids. There’s a subtle comfort knowing it’s not their reality.

That for them, my Dad is still here.

The innocence of childhood.  Not needing to know everything.

I realize that will change in the next day, but for the moment, I take comfort knowing, in their world, Pop still exists.  

They are homeschooling due to a Covid outbreak in their class this week.

What’s one more thing?

(Parents read between the lines.)


I never planned on writing these personal posts, connecting so deeply with people here.

Each week, I kept thinking the prior post would be my last.

But I embraced the flow.

All we have are our connections with one another in this world – Amongst family, friends & strangers.

I’m grateful for even the most brief connections here. 🌺💛

In all of the hundreds of comments on these six updates, there was one from a woman who said she can’t relate because she never had a great Dad and wishes she did.

That comment struck me.

In the hardest moments of grief, I am going to try to lean on my gratitude for the blessing of simply having an AMAZING Dad… even if it felt too short.

Amidst the confusion and heartache, there is gratitude for ‘what was.’

Thank you for reading these stories.

Thank you for sharing your own.

Thank you for the gift of your time with me.

For recognizing all that is GOOD in the world… Feeling blessed and grateful ❤️