Three years of yellow roses.

On the mantle above the fireplace I have a memorial picture of my dad.  Lauren has taken notice of it lately and demands that we stop to look at it for a while saying "Pa, Pa" and pointing.  I tell her how that is my daddy and he is in heaven.  I tell her how much I miss him and how I am sad that I can't see him.  I tell her how much Grandpa would have loved her.  And we talk about the expression on his face...how he is smiling at us because Grandpa liked to smile and tease.  She smiles back.  For those moments Lauren is perfectly still in my arms taking it all in while I fight tears and occasionally let them fall.  Every time. 

Since I first learned that I was pregnant with CJ and then with Lauren my heart would break all over again knowing that they would never have an earthly relationship with their Grandpa Daryl.  Maybe it is my mother's heart that can accept that my dad is gone but continually wonders why my children were robbed of the chance of building memories with him.  God has given me an overwhelming desire keep memories of him alive so that my child(ren) can have a sense of knowing him. 

Yet, when that picture catches my girl's eye there is a stillness that comes over her.  It is almost like she knows him.  When she spots a picture of Craig or I or my nieces she gets excited and wants to look at them together but it is short lived.  With pictures of Dad she is drawn in. I think--or maybe just hope--that she is feeling a connection. Oh how they would adore each other.

Tomorrow will mark the three year anniversary of the day that Dad died.  Three years.  It has been tougher than I ever thought it could be. In some ways it seems like just yesterday that he was here and in others it seems like he has been gone a lifetime already. Three years of a single yellow rose marking Dad's absence on the table through the holidays and other special days for the family.  Three years of missing him. 

If wishes could change reality I would wish for one more talk with my dad.  One more hug.  To hear his laugh one more time.  One chance to see him and Lauren play and bond.  I guess one more of any of things would never be enough. 

I find so much comfort in knowing that dad is in paradise basking in the fulfillment of God's promise of eternal life...but some days I just miss him so much here!