He Will Always be There, Just Like He Always Was.

Today is July 28, 2019

Eight months. Time flies. Time drags. But it never stops.

I am eight months a widow. Honestly, I hate the actual word "widow" although I use it more often that I'd like to admit. Putting aside the definition, and all it entails, the word itself sounds old. It sounds 'incapable' or something. And visually it just looks like a misspelling of the word "window" to me. However, widow I am.

About two months ago, I bought a plot at the cemetery and ordered a headstone for my beloved.  The headstone arrived this week, coinciding with a weekend all of our children were in town, so we had a little intimate 'ceremony' graveside as we laid Papa's remains to rest, and celebrated everything that was, that which is, and things to come.

While the event was "planned" in that we knew it was upcoming, we didn't really make a plan. And it was perfect. It was raining but warm. It was sad, but joyous. It was unscripted but unfolded beautifully. And Papa was honoured, this much I know.

The grand kidlets danced in the rain, sprinkled sand, laid flowers and scattered flower petals. Jed played fitting music on his phone. Some made speeches, some recalled stories, most cried, all laughed. There was wine. There were photos. There were memories - both recalled and made.  And truly I was blessed. I AM blessed.

While we kept this event private and contained to our wee circle of family, indeed I know that Albert was truly included in many circles of love. I sort of see him as an olympic rings symbol. Many rings of various colours, all inter-looping yet individual, all a part of, yet not completely defining.

It's quite likely that every grieving spouse has these thoughts and feelings, but it doesn't diminish my reality: My Albert was very special. And I am so grateful that I shared the very core of his being with Jesus. It's an honour I cherish. But I also realize there are many other 'rings' in his life where others share my gratitude to have been a part of.

And so, I share the details of where his weary earthly body was laid to rest and invite you to drop by to visit the site to honour him, to talk to him, to swear at him, to question God, to sing, to dance, to cheers him with a drink, to contemplate life, to remember his wisdom, to cherish his sarcasm, to just be. And he will be there. Just like he ALWAYS was.

His marker includes his all-time favourite bible verse - which so aptly defines his life. 

Dancing in the rain for Papa. 

So unscripted. So Perfect. 

I'm so blessed by all the kids participation. 

Daphne, Papa's little Schmoey-girl, aptly kept the direction and flow of the day moving. 

If you are wanting to visit his resting place, go through the cemetery gate, turn to the left and go all the way to the farthest path. It's at the end of a row next to the fence. (Sort of across from the stop sign at the end of Williams Cres)