What's Next?

Where is the beach? I can imagine it, I can feel it, I remember the warm, soft breezes and the gorgeous sunsets there. Not sure if we are going this year, but I could sure use some right about now. We used to go a couple of times a year, when Laguna Beach Christian Cottages were dirt cheap and half the people we knew in the world also went. We had to bring our own linens and half the kitchen with us, as well as bring extra blankets and towels to cover the windows at night. Otherwise, you seemed like you were sleeping in the daylight. But it was worth it.  Our kids would run all over the place -- swimming, playing volleyball and basketball, running down the very-familiar path to the beach, hunting through the local "Beall's Outlet" for great deals. We'd save up all year for our night out at "Angelo's Steak Pit" and take pictures of the family with the big bull out front. 

Thinking of the water makes me think of my Daddy, the best Daddy that God ever made. He loved the beach and hanging out with his 21 grandkids. My Mama didn't care for all the heat and the sand, but she indulged him those trips. I'd saunter over to their cottage and drink coffee with him in the mornings. We'd find him in his big Panama Jack hat and Bermuda shorts, with socks and flip-flops to protect his feet. How I miss the very essence of him, this Father's Day. 

I remember that little girl, so loved by him. He thought I was the bomb.com and delighted in whatever I was up to, including our (later) four children and then grandchildren. He was always completely involved in their activities, be it sports or speeches or church choir performances. He retired early, not with great riches, but with better plans than clocking in every day. He fixed up campers and he and my Mama camped all the time, usually bringing a grandchild or two with them. They made the rounds to see all the family. He'd say, "I'm hungry to see some of them grandkids." And he was loved for it.

I know that getting old was hard for him. He was always a kid at heart, and when there were restrictions beginning to hinder his activities, he was not happy about it. The Lord was merciful to take him while he still had his boots on.  I'm glad he didn't die by inches, which is often the case. He mowed his grass, took a shower, ate a bite of popcorn and that was it. His last words to my Mama were "Thank you." His last words to me and my sister were two days before: "I'm so proud of you two." These were the usual things that came out of his mouth. 

The world has not been the same, for the eight years since he left it. But we dishonor our loved ones, if we let that keep us from living, from flying. They would be terribly grieved, if they saw us mired in our own grief. They want us to thrive, to prove out what they taught us, to carry the candle of their light to the next generations. Therefore, I cry today, missing him terribly, but then I dry my tears and look to those God has placed around me, to love them well, to tell them what they mean to me, to encourage them to fly and to soar. 

This is the circle of life.