The story goes that I kissed this photograph every night when I went to bed and every morning when I woke up. It was next to my crib as my Dad was off at war. He would tell the story of coming home over many flights, no fanfare, no handshakes like you see today. But when he stood by my crib for the first time and I awoke, rolled over and said “Good morning Dad.”, that was enough. It was the picture that connected us across the miles. It was a love and a bond that carried us. And it was the simple act of placing that picture next to my crib that connected me to my Dad. Thanks Mom.
His death is still raw. His life lives on in the many pictures and stories we have. As I spoke when we celebrated his life, each person he met was a thread in this story that he so beautifully wove into the fabric of our family. Connections were important to him. Whether a connection to a person, a book or a newspaper article you were sure to gain from his efforts. Know that the simple compliment you pay, the referral you make, the person you let in front of you on the road, the note you send, the hug you give and the words that you share with others are all connections that make a difference. Threads in their story that they are weaving.
A beautiful soul shared with me today that the hole I have in my heart with his passing will always remain. But slowly I will weave love around that hole to make it beautiful and honor our time together. So those words and hugs and tilts of head in understanding are helping me weave around that hole. Thank you for those connections as they soothe my soul and support my growth.