I asked a few friends to pray for me today that I would be able to work all day without breaking down. Mostly because I didn't want to just lay at home and cry. Also because I didn't want to take any vacation time cause I'm planning a trip away in December. And I made it. Only by the grace of God. I had two or three moments where I thought for sure it was over. But I shook myself and buried my brain in whatever task was in front of me and I made it. But at 5:02 I posted a picture on facebook wishing Dad a happy birthday and the tears started.
After dinner with mom and sister and planting the bulbs from the funeral plants I headed home to bury my head in facebook and network television. Mom called to tell me her sister had called and had a picture to text to me. She warned me it would make me cry. When I got it, it did. It was my aunt and 3 of her grandkids and our full-size family van that we gave them with a Happy Birthday balloon. Mom didn't realize right away, and had to tell me, that they had gone out to the cemetery where Dad is buried. They took the picture there.
Hope is knowing that there are people who "get" your grief. Hope is knowing that they will do the thing you can't do (drive 2 1/2 hours to visit that cemetery). Hope is knowing people will do the thing they don't have to do just because they love you, just because they understand, just because they don't want you to feel alone.
Happy Birthday Daddy. We love you. We miss you.