My thoughts on month seven…

For seven months, I keep finding little stories about the ocean – to which I find no surprise. 

I love the ocean.  I find peace there - somewhere amongst the sand, and the sun and the sounds. It feels much like home to me. 

I have shared before, but this grief journey feels a lot like the ocean and waves. 

It can be calm, and gentle.

At times it can roar like the biggest of storms.

Often, it feels like the rip tide is waiting to pull you under. 

Last weekend, we ventured out to tour a wedding venue for Brock and Sara.  This was one of those moments where the rip tide was holding on strong.  Planning a wedding, especially for one of your children, is (and should be) an incredibly exciting time. 

We had a lot of fun.

A drive into the mountains. 

A stop at Bucee’s. (if you know, you know)

A tour of the most gorgeous wedding venue and surrounding property.

All the most exciting of moments.

But in the back of my mind that rip current sat, waiting for a vulnerable moment. 

It found me, and it got me. 

It was hard to hold back the tears as they streamed down my face as I began to imagine who Sara would choose to walk her down the aisle. 

That is something that every daddy dreams of for his little girl.

For her to find ‘the one’ that makes her heart sing with joy.

The one that lights her up from the inside.

The one that protects her heart, just like he would.

Sara has found ‘the one’.

He had Joe’s stamp of approval already, but still, Joe should be the one to give her away. 

That’s his honor for each of his little girls.

…and now, none of them will have that memory with him.

That rip tide got me good.

It tried to pull me under.

When I share that Sara has found one that is special, I really mean it.

Brock just having lost his own daddy a few weeks before Joe, saw the waves crashing in on me, and was there with a supportive hug, a tissue, and words of encouragement. 

In the same breaths of words that I share this, I think it’s important to share that I feel the tide changing. 

In just seven months, there’s a shift of energy in our home.  In the business.  In my heart.

Our home is starting to find rhythm to it again.  We have the same routines, but they are also so different too.  We laugh.  We remember without crying every time.  We celebrate family harder.  We love just as big as we did before, but it feels so very different now.  We say I love you to each other every chance we get.

The business is back on its feet.  We really didn’t miss a beat with work but learning new rhythms and workflows has taken time.  I am so thankful for each of the employees that work at the business.  Their dedication to what we do, and the energy they bring to the office.  The work we do is hard.  For the guys in the field, it’s a true grind.  But one by one, day by day, the work is getting completed and we are saying YES to new opportunities, often.

My heart. 

As sad as it is to write the words, I feel a tide shifting in my heart as well.

I am no longer afraid of what life looks like now and am honestly excited to dream again.

I have plans for the future - short and long term.

I am excited to see our children become adults and start their own families.

I have learned to cultivate joy, even in the smallest of moments – and now I’m finding it everywhere. 

I want to embrace every moment out of life that I can and am fired up to see where this thing takes me. 

So yes, it’s only been 7 months.

And yes, it’s been a long 7 moths full of everything. 

Sorrow.

Grief.

Deep hurting.

Laughter.

Love. 

Joy. 

Deep healing.

The tide is shifting.

The current is slowly losing its grip on me. 

…and I still love the ocean.