Me and Dad. 1981
Me and Dad, 1981. Okay, Avery looks just like me as a baby, don't you think?
Me and Dad 1985. I still have chubby knees!
Last night, a friend mentioned that Avery would be going into nursery next year at church (she teaches nursery and was adding up how many children would be joining the class next year when they turn 18 months). I was in absolute denial that that would ever happen. I was actually SHOCKED that in less than a year she would be old enough to go to nursery! That combined with telling several people in casual conversation that my dad had recently passed away, seemed to leave me in a pretty volatile emotional state for the evening! I got home a wreck, my heart bursting with happiness and sadness at the same time. NO! I told Kirtis. Avery will NOT grow up! She cannot. It is not okay with me. She will stay a perfectly heavenly baby forever. My dad held her on his lap while we pushed him in his wheelchair. He held her as a newborn. When I found out Dad had passed, I had her sweet soft fresh skin to press against my tear-stained cheeks. Her new fresh-from-heaven eyes have been my connection to my dad, my gift from a loving heavenly father to help ease the pain of my dad's passing.
But life moves forward. Babies grow up. Parents die. All of this growth is part of an amazing eternal plan. But for now, we hurt and miss and ache because we love and have loved.
Dad, October 2006
I miss you, Dad.