For Today, See Only Love

My dad is 67 today. At least, I think that's the right age. I might be off by a year. I can't really think about it long enough to figure it out. It makes my heart hurt too much.

I don't see him as 67. I see him at 63. The age when he left this world for another. But again, I can't really think about it too long.

For the last 4 years, I've never been sure what to do with this day. Proceed as normal? Whisper a happy birthday with my eyes shut tight and a wish to rewind? Nothing feels quite right. Maybe there is no right to be found. Hope and loss seem to float hand in hand.

My dad had a passionate view of family. He placed it above all else. Not his car, not his clothes, not his house or his favorite shows on TV. His family. He loved us most. That love has settled into the core of my soul. It has laid the foundation for who I am today and tomorrow.

Love is stronger than grief. I often forget that. It's brighter and more courageous, and has arms that reach wide. Love never wavers. Grief and sadness shift and move. That's why they catch our focus. The shifting hurts. At times, it's all we can see.

But Love stands ready, simply waiting, never moving. Today I reach out and grab her and let her arms hold tight. My heart hurts less when I stand still long enough to let Love work it's magic.

Happy Birthday dad. I think of you every. single. day.

Love with arms open wide.