February Brings.....

...no, I don't mean Lent.

....no, I don't mean Valentine's Day.

.....no, I don't mean President's Day.

On this day, seven years ago, my father left the Earth and elevated to Heaven.

(Seven seems to be a running theme number in our lives. My birthday has a seven. Dad's does. He died on a seven. My brother has a seven in his birthdate. Mom's birthday adds up to a number with seven. This commemorates the seventh year of his death. My Eldest is seven. My Little One's birthdate adds up to a number with seven in it.)

He came from a chemo treatment to meet her.

He drove five hours to a big-city hospital fresh from enduring four hours of chemotherapy.

He couldn't meet her the day before because he was simply too exhausted.

He made the effort to come the next day defeating the exhaustion from the day before, despite his cancer treatment from earlier that day, weak and compromised in body being eaten alive with abnormally growing cells which, in the end, won the entire war.

He made that monumental effort to meet his First Granddaughter.

My father drove all that way, body and soul exerted, to meet My Eldest.

He will never know My Little One -- at least not in this lifetime -- on this Earth.

The picture you see in today's post is of My Dad napping with His Granddaughter. They are eerily the same color. My Eldest is but two days old. Dad was about to turn 63. (After being diagnosed, he set three goals. He wanted to live long enough to see: 1 - his first social security paycheck, 2 - his 30th wedding anneversary, and 3 - to see the millenium. He achieved them all.)

They lay asleep on a futon that's been opened to the bed position. He looks happy, doesn't he? I'm reminded by looking at the picture how cold he always stayed. That heavy, brown-quilted, flannel "shirt" kept him warm. I especially love how her head is turned slightly toward him. She looks so peaceful sleeping in the crook of his arm and chest as she often did with that fist up against her cheek.

Life was so much simpler back then....

Anyway, don't be sad as you read this post. I'm posting as I do, in memory of My Dad. And while yes, I am sad he isn't here and I often grieve all the things he won't be here to see and do, ultimately, I couldn't be happier for him. He's in peace. He's in Heaven. He's where we all long to go. He's smiling down at me and all his loved ones. I can hear him whenever I hear my kids laughing. I can hear him whenever I play cards. I feel him as I drive through the gate of the joint reserve base. I see him in seredipitously found pennies. He protects me by sending red cardinals. Whenever I eat catfish, I reminisce about the fishfry days at The Bronc, singing old country songs.

So many smiles.

Even in death, there is a smile.