I wish you were there

The wind is blustery and the air is bitterly cold outside. Our little round straw bale house is holding in all it's heat from yesterday's moments of sunshine. I put an extra blanket on each of the boys last night, but they didn't really need them. This morning, in the pre-dawn darkness I lit some candles so that I had light to make my tea and not wake the boys. The wind and rain unnerve me, still, but the elements of this little house bring comfort and assurance, somehow. I suppose the whispers of trauma stay with us always, though they become quieter and somehow less obtrusive. 

Today marks the anniversary of Daddy's death - again. 

Daddy, it would be nice if there could be a year where we could just skip November 19th. I wish it wasn't a marked date, seared into the tapestry of our lives. I wish there wasn't a memorial off I-17 marking the scene. I wish I didn't have a fallen officer plate on my car with your name on it. I wish your badge wasn't fixed to that cold, hard stone. 

If only you had been there; for all the monumental happenings, and for all the tiny moments that have changed us forever. When I won "Good Hands and Seat" on my 28 year old paint horse. When I fell in love with God. When I lost Addy, my beloved goat - I thought my heart was broken into pieces. When I won my first freestyle swimming competition. When Fancy was born on that incredibly cold morning, in the darkness. When I graduated from college. When I met Kris. When I gave birth to your four incredible grandsons. When I have been surprised by joy and when my heart has broken time and again. When I am alone. When I have succeeded and when I have failed. I wish I could show you my tree and tell you all the things that I have been shown in that place. I wish you were part of it all. In a way, I guess you have been. 

But, the truth is, none of those things would have happened if you had been there. The tapestry would have been completely different. One strand of a different color, added in a different sequence, or multiple strands of various colors never included, would change the entire tapestry. The whispers of trauma remain, but I can see how the great weaver has continued his weaving and made what is supposed to be. And it is beautiful. I think, if you could see it, you would be as overwhelmed by the beauty of it as I am. But, I sure miss you. Always and forever.