Yesterday was possibly the hardest day I’ve had since my dad died in March.  We had a “celebration of life” service with our many relatives here in Kansas (at least 80 of my aunts, uncles and cousins).  While it was difficult for me to revisit all of the emotions I’ve experienced in the past three months, it was a beautiful ceremony and gave everyone else a chance to share memories of my dad.  As I watched the slide show we prepared back in the spring, which I’ve watched many times, tears just rolled down my face; I guess it finally really hit me that he isn’t coming back.  I really won’t see him, ever again.  I knew that, of course, but on some visceral level it hadn’t hit me yet.

I am so grateful for all of the love my family has shared with me over the past few days, and the wonderful memories they’ve shared and how everyone made a point to tell me what he had meant to them.  I don’t know how I was so lucky to be born into such a loving, amazing family.

It was sad sitting under his favorite tree in my aunt’s yard, missing his clever contributions to the conversation.  My mom left a little sprinkle of his ashes there, and tomorrow we’ll scatter the rest at my grandparent’s farm.  This feels like a real goodbye.

I can’t write any more.

I miss him.