September 23, 1997…the day I buried my father.
So I guess it’s fitting, then, that today was our annual “Day of Remembering.” As usual, we met at Restland for the traditional placing of the flowers and taking of the photos:
We tried something new with our joint picture this time…one at the gravesite. We’ve never done this before, and it definitely has its challenges, but we managed to get a pretty decent shot.
I’m never sure whether I should smile in these pictures or not. I’m not totally sure what’s appropriate. I don’t know what people will think. But I like to think that Dad would smile at us having joy in the midst of our sorrow, still having fun without him, laughing through the heartache of missing him. So I smile. If for no other reason than to honor him.
And – as has become custom – Mom asks her usual hard question. This year, her question was “If he could come back for ONE day, what would you do?â€
After she assured me that she’d get her own day to spend with him, I gave my answer:
- meet in Boston, with Matt and the kids with me
- introduce my children to their grandfather
- take a train to the Boston Children’s Museum, for some true “Grampa†time
- enjoy a picnic lunch at the Boston Public Gardens, reading “Make Way for Ducklingsâ€, taking pictures with the Mallard statues, and riding on a swan boat
- hop a train to Fenway to watch the Red Sox win!
I couldn’t imagine a more perfect day. But I know he can…and someday I’ll get to experience it with him.