Empty benches usually suggest a place of rest, a moment of repose from the busy-ness of life. However, in looking through old photos taken during a trip to Nashville several years ago, the emptiness I see here is evocative of the fact that my dad is no longer with us. His passing occurred while my honey and I were driving back to Nashville to assist my mom a couple of Fridays ago.
We flew down the highway, and his spirit flew from its earthly body.
I am now back at home and back to work after a whirlwind of visits with family and friends and a lovely service to commemorate his life. He had asked to be remembered as a person who made people laugh. I remember him most as someone on whom I could practice my witticisms and someone who was generous. He taught me how to plan for the future, how to be mindful with money, that family equates with constancy and reliability... and that laughter is the universal language of healing and joy.
I offer a toast to my father, to send him peacefully on his way to the next phase of being.
Until next time...
Anne
