RIP Daddy

I just returned from a long, long trip. It's the kind of trip you welcome, where smiles, hugs and familiar faces greet you at the end.
It makes the road to get there worth it- no matter how much sleep you lack, how sore your old bones get cooped up in a car, or how many times you have to hear "Are we there YET??"

It's the road that starts to blur as you forge on ahead. Where you travel at speeds so fast, sometimes you aren't even sure where you are.

It's the road that has small white lines, meant to keep you on your path. Your right path.

This trip was all that and yet so much more. As we packed and I spoke the words that raised the eyebrows of the one I love,  he questioned me, "Are you sure?". My reply was solid. I'm ready. At least I think I am.

So, we packed up the heavy plastic box, with the hinge on one side and the white label on top. And it traveled with us. One last family trip.

After many days and thousands of miles we came to place where our car stopped. This was it.
The place my dad had fondly talked of, and brought me to often.. just to see the view.

He had worked this route on the railroad, and it was one of his favorite spots. It bridged a gap between where he lived, and where I lived, and it brought us together as father and daughter more than one time. But this would be the last time.

The car stopped and I looked ahead. The question swirled in my mind... was I really ready? Could I let go of him? A gentle squeeze on the hand by my husband told me the answer.

Slowly, we filed out of the car, and began a short hike to the special place. We were thankful the skies had cleared, as earlier they were sad, grey and wet.

I walked ahead, one foot in front of the other, memories clouded my mind, as did this verse. " The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; don't be discouraged." Deut.31:8

This kids babbled questions, but I couldn't really answer, for fear that opening my mouth would bring on the sobbing I fought so hard to control.

When I got to the spot, I slowly opened the plastic box, and with shaking hands I gently began to scatter my daddy's ashes, all over the ground. Tears rolled. I heard sniffling behind me only to turn and be greeted by my kids whose eyes were also filled with water. None of us spoke, we just poured and poured. We took in our breath and let it back out. We looked up at the tracks my dad had so frequently rode. He had been there, enjoying the view, so many times before. My heart longed to have him back with us.

A soft breeze carried some of the ash away. "Dad, we miss you." I heard myself whisper. How my heart ached for a new ending to this story. "Why couldn't you have been here with us today in person? Why did you give up hope? Why did you chose to die?"

I knew there would be no answers. And the ending doesn't change. But WE change. we choose life when we are tired and worn and want to give up. We choose to look up at the sky and see the blue, and the beauty in the clouds. We choose to believe God has the best in mind for us no matter how many tears fall to the ground. We choose to believe tomorrow is going to better even if today the valley seems so deep. And dark.

The kids pick a few yellow flowers and walk over to the spot. They lovingly plant them in the ground, covering them with soil. They pick up small rocks and begin to build a planter.

And I take a step back, and draw a big breath. Yes, Rest in Peace Daddy. The view is marvelous.... and so is the road ahead.

To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory. Isaiah 61:3