My father and his brother, Jim, as children:
I had not seen these photos before. They were tucked in some stuff that Pop retrieved from De Soto when they packed up my grandmother’s belongings in 1998 . . . .
On this Friday, I am returning to my home, my bed, my Auggie in Saint Louis.
I’ll teach a few lessons on Friday and Saturday, then go to Advent IV and Christmas Eve services at Christ Church Cathedral.
Christmas Day will be low-key at home, with a buffet dinner somewhere with a couple of friends.
The work in Lee’s Summit is done, for now. Pop is laid to rest, and hugs and “I love you”s have been exchanged.
Now to get on with the task of living.
I wrote a colleague this week, and share the same thing with you now:
My sisters and I, and our entire family, and especially his wife, are all clear-eyed people of faith. We know that we are burying his shell, but that his essence lives on. Our grief is real, but so is our comfort in the sure and certain hope of glory.
I’m grateful for the comforting outpouring of encouragement and kindness from others these past few days, and for your own support.
To all who have sent supportive notes and Facebook comments and texts these past few days, I am grateful beyond words for the host that has surrounded me in spirit and in truth.
Pop’s obituary in the Lee’s Summit Journal today:
This cardinal was on my father’s rooftop Tuesday, and looked right at me for a long time.
My sister reported a similar sighting in the bushes by her front door Tuesday.
From my friend Darin in Dayton:
You do know, don’t you, in Native American lore, whenever a cardinal visits shortly after someone’s death, they have come for a final goodbye or to reassure a loved one they are doing just fine. This happened with my grandmother and several of my dogs.
I believe. I do believe.
This cardinal greeted me today as I parked at my father’s house.
Pop loved the baseball Cardinals, his boyhood team.