Disclaimer: The next few blogs are likely to be pretty emotionally raw. Wait until you have some time. Read with tissue.

On my porch today. The first day without a have-to-do-it-right-now list. The first day of “rest.” Appropriately, it is a Sunday. I am bundled in blankets with my little dog Peanut on my lap, wrapped in his sweater and a blanket. I could have been cozy inside in my writing chair, but I think Dad was calling me outside today.

Already, all the birds are gathering around in the trees. They are landing on the gutters right above my head. Doves, I believe. They have never come quite this close when I am on the porch. Dad is sending them, to make sure I know he is alright…more than alright. He is with the God who created all these mountains I see. The sun has peeked over the ridge and painted a golden glow. Though most of the leaves are down already, the few that are left are the yellows and when the sun hits them they illuminate. I am surrounded by beauty this day, with a cloud of sorrow over my heart that is raining drops of grace.

And I feel…how do I feel? Sad. Tired. Heavy with grief. Alone, though I am not. Proud of us, for sticking to our guns and giving him what he wanted. Traumatized, by what that looked like. Relieved, it is over. Confident, that we got it right for him. Connected, seeing his eyes open and clear as he nodded, ‘Yes, this is what I want.” Overwhelmed, that he trusted us with such decisions. Trying, unsuccessfully, not to sob at the bedside. Gutted, to watch the suffering. Reassured, once the pain meds were onboard. Comforted, when the machines came off. Peaceful, holding his warm hands and speaking loving words into his ears. Resolved, to make the last moments calm ones. Stunned, walking him so quickly to the door. Happy, that Dad waited for us to leave before he passed. Somehow in control, if that’s possible, till the end. Glad, he was stubborn and went out his way. Numb, when going through these steps again, so soon. Excruciating pain, at the breaking of my heart into shards once again. Last time, inch by inch. This time, all in one rip-the-Band-Aid-off moment. Angry, to be in the middle of this grief sandwich. Privileged, to have had this man for the 61 years of my life. My rock. My support. Joyful, he and Mom are reunited. Uncertain, that I am ready for life without them. Confident, he knows I am. Scared, to be a matriarch. Lost, in trying to find my way. Untethered, from my anchor. Destabilized, as the ground under my feet shifts. Lonely, that we will not be meeting for Sunday lunch today. Aware, that these feelings are very complex and will take a long sorting process. Hopeful, I can find enough tissues to get me through. Loved, by friends and family. Grateful, to have so many who care.