Today is a tough day about which to write.  I realize for many this is a day of celebration for the Day of the Dead.  And I think it is wonderful to remember those who have passed on before us.  It is lovely to have a special day to bring their memory to life tangibly by having their favorite food or by doing something that honors them and keeps them alive for the next generation.  But I confess I just feel an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss.  I think of my parents every day and talk about them daily as well.  I love that in our church the departed are always prayed for and remembered; I find great comfort in that.  This was the last professional picture we had made (for a church directory) before my daddy passed.  When I took this picture today it actually pained me to see that on Daddy’s side it seemed more faint.  It is as if my memories of him are tangibly fading as well.  He passed when I was just 28 years old.  Only people in a family of three can understand the incredible bond which exists between them.  Three is a magic number.  As I strive to stay positive, something which my father strongly believed one should always do, I shall attempt to think of things they did that made me laugh.  Every time we would go to Petsmart Daddy would always ask if he could take home a couple of their free dog biscuits.  After the cashier replied “sure” he would say, “Thank you!  My wife loves these!” and the poor teenager’s eyes would get as wide as saucers.  Pretty soon they knew his schtick.  One time before church Mama caught Daddy with a bunch of doughnut holes and tried to get him not to eat them because she was worried about his diet.  I’ll never forget they wound up oozing out of his huge red fingers as her tiny white ones tried to make him let them go.  They were together 44 years and they showed me what lasting love looks like.  How I miss them.  If I could have one wish it would be to bring them back for just one day so they could see their granddaughter and meet my husband.  I hope and pray fervently they somehow know and can see us.  And I hope beyond measure that I make them proud.  The English Anglican priest William Inge once wrote:

“Love remembered and consecrated by grief belongs, more clearly than the happy intercourse of friends, to the eternal world; it has proved itself stronger than death.”