two years

I seem to write a lot about my dad. And I think that’s because in one way or another he’s on my mind nearly every day, even more so today with it being the 2nd anniversary of his death. I’ll go to his grave today and with my eyes closed try to remember all the dear things about him I never want to forget. There are so many things I never want to forget. Sometimes I wonder if it's really important to visit a loved ones grave. Does it make us feel better, even if they don’t know we’re there? Do they know we're there? I’ve wondered about this before. I think of past visits over the last two years, his birthdays, Father’s Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and other times when I’ve needed to feel close to him again. Sometimes it helped and sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes it just felt empty. Though I know where to find my dad I don’t believe it’s where he really is. I think about where he is now and wonder what it’s like, if he’s aware in some spiritual sort of way that I’m still here, or is he sleeping, resting in peace until the day he’s united with Christ. Is he already? I wish I knew the answers but then again I know we’re not meant to know, not until our own time comes. I know dad used to wonder too. I can still see him sitting in his favorite chair looking out the window with a faraway look as if contemplating the Universe and what it was really all about. He always wanted to know what it was all about. I know he still had questions when he left but I feel certain that even with his questions, deep down, he knew there was more than could ever be explained. He may not have understood God the way he desired but he knew God. He always knew he was there.