Ever wish you could look into the future and know when the last time would be to see a loved one? Would it make you act differently if you knew? Would it make you say the things you have been waiting for the perfect moment for? Would it make you hug a little longer?
Today marks my 3rd anniversary to my husband Paul. We got married in Kansas on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. A light breeze in the air, lush green grass under our feet, and the bluest sky Ive ever seen. I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful day.
I almost didn’t make it there in time though. As we all piled in the cars to make the drive (we were staying in a nearby town), I was the last to leave. I had to make the grandest entrance. My driver, by sheer mistake, locked the keys in the car after he went down to start cooling it off for me. After a frantic phone call to get the spare keys, we got in the car and were on our way.
I don’t remember much of the conversation. I was distracted by the upcoming nuptials and start to a new life. I’m sure it included small talk about the weather, or what was on the radio, or probably even the route to the farm. Looking back I wish I could have etched every second of that ride in my mind.
My driver was my dad. And unbeknownst too me…that would be our last ride together; and the last time I would see him.
While I am grateful, happy, blessed to be celebrating 3 wonderful years with my husband, this anniversary comes with a little sorrow. I’m reminded that this is also the anniversary of the last hug, the last smile, the last kiss from my father. Would I have hugged a little longer? Definitely.
Since my dad’s death, it’s become clear that life is too short. You hear that cliche all the time, but it really is true. My dad was invincible in my eyes. I knew I would probably have to bury him in my life, but never did I think it would come this early. I’ve realized since his death that I/we can’t make excuses anymore to see family and friends. Had we not had that one excuse in December, I could have celebrated one last Christmas with him. I struggle with that sometimes but then remind myself that that highway we would of driven on went two ways.
I miss my dad. I think of him often. I am grateful for the years I got with him, and even more grateful I had him there for one of the happiest days of my life (so far).
Thank you, Libby. This is very genuine and clear and moving. I also appreciated getting to see and hear your Dad.
That is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing and making us all think a little about the really important people in our lives.