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The end of August marked six years since my Dad died from cancer. Sometimes seems just like yesterday. Otherwise, seems like a while ago. I just heartfully regret that he didn't have a chance to meet N. I recall my childhood in the home where I grew up on Nunda Avenue, remember what it was like to be around my Dad in that house. Weekend barbecues after his tennis games, coming home after work to water the vegetables in the backyard garden lined with a stone path, taking out an entire wall to create a larger livingroom area. That contented sadness manages to overwhelm me at Sunday service during the meditation segment. Church music lulls me deep into my emotional bed that I tend to keep guarded, not on purpose, only because life gets busy. As I keep N. from getting too fussy in the three-foot pew space, my eyes well up, and my tears remain bottled . . . and I hope for a cheesy Hallmark movie in the evening, so that I can finally release.
The best release happens to be when it comes out of the blue. The uncontrollable laughter turns into unstoppable tears which turn into bellyaching laughter and more tears. My unexpected release happened upon me during my cousin Kat's visit. Kat graciously accepted our invitation to keep N. and me company while A. was abroad in Amsterdam for work. With her own family and school age kids in Georgia, it'd been a while since Kat and I had some time to just kick back and be. But every night, once N. was in dreamland, I actually had the pleasure of enjoying a meal by candlelight, with wine & dessert, followed by a movie! Kat's stay made for some much needed girly time, which included sharing her artful skill of the selfie.
What's wonderful about memories is, we can keep them forever.
To a blessed rest of the Summer (it ain't over yet)!
