I'm thinking about my dad a lot today, on father's day. I'm thinking about what an attentive, involved dad he was. I'm thinking about how lucky I was to have him as a dad for 16 short years. I'm thinking about what an incredible grandpa he would have been to our little one on the way, and how sad I am that he/she won't know him. (This stings, more than anything.) And mostly, I'm thinking about how much I just plain miss him.
People say, "It gets easier." But it really doesn't. Perhaps you grow more numb, or maybe it's that sadness just wears you down. Beats you into submission. Becomes as present as your own breath and as regular as putting on socks. But it certainly doesn't get any easier.
So when I find myself buried in really sad, hard thoughts, I dig through my photo stash. (Yet another reminder to myself to make actual copies of all the digital files stashed away on the computer - nothing compares to holding a physical print.) And I smile, because it was so, so good. Here are some favorites:
What is it about trains?
A big kid at heart, always.
Well-loved. Plain and simple.