When my Dad died, I used to pray that I could live long enough to see Beau grow up.  And then he did.  Then I prayed I’d live long enough to be happily married.  And then I met Mike.  Then I would pray to have just one more baby.  And then Donovan came along.  Now I pray I’ll live long enough for grandchildren because I am going to be a kick ass grandma.
When someone dies you realize the same thing could happen to you.  I mean it’s common knowledge but we all think of it as a vague sort of happening down the road and then someone dies and you know it could happen while you’re sipping coffee or on basketball court or in the car.  It could happen and it does.
One of my friends went to two funerals in one week.  One of the bad things about getting older is we have to watch people die and as clique as it sounds it means a little piece of us dies.  When my Dad died I felt like I was missing a limb.  I was always patting my pockets and scratching my head; but damned if I could find that missing thing.  You know my Dad died because I’ve told you.  I can’t help myself.  He was a shining star to me, something special and I like to spread his light.  I’m 37 and I think of him every day and know I was lucky to be a part of his life.  I’m proud to be his daughter.  That never leaves me.
It’s hard to let your friends your grandmother your father be gone.  But remember them and swear that you will laugh a little more, turn off the television and go to coffee.  Take a trip.  Love someone harder.  Talk about them. The worst thing I can imagine about dying is that I won’t see my kids grow up.  The second worst thing I can imagine is that people will stop talking about me.  Donovan does not want us to leave him.  I’m with him.  I don’t want to go but I don’t have much choice and I hope to have a hell of a ride while I’m here.  My car is full of good people and the road is clear.
You got to hurt and get through it.  That’s what grown ups do because we know it gets better.  We know we can wake up and breathe deep and have a good cup of joe and smile at our babies.  You’re still here and that’s something to be happy about.  What Dad wouldn’t give for one more round of cards.  For one more silly Christmas present like the laughing checkbook I gave him when I was nine.  For one more Monday night football.  For one more beautiful baby foot in his palm.  For one more chance to get up, wake up, smell the coffee, eat the bacon and be on your way.  Add up the little things and they equal a life and sometimes you just have to know that it’s enough and if not…. a prayer or two never hurt.  I mean hey I made it to 37 didn’t I.  Now we just got to get to that grandmother thing but not a minute to soon Beau, not a minute to soon…..