Every morning for the last month, my mother wakes up and asks, When is the wedding? Soon. Very soon. A few more days.
We are all measuring the days in our way. Busy, thoughtful, excited, anxious. Mostly just happy.
After dinner last night, I said that I really missed my dad right now. Andy said, yeah, now is pretty much when we miss them the most. His mom, his dad, too. Our girls have all grown up so beautifully. They are loving and kind and funny and dear and charming. They are each other's best friends. They take care of us in their little and big ways. Family is everything to them. My mom is the only one of the grandparents to see them as young women. I love it when she tells me how sweet they are, how much she adores being with them, laughing and listening to their stories.
Erin was the first grandchild in my family. She was easy to love and exquisitely loving in return. Like everyone else, my dad was enchanted. He loved the role of Grampa and the chance to nurture her intuitive soul. Showed her the forest, the fields, the places where fish lingered in deep pools. He calmed her worries at day's end when the countryside grew dark with wild noises piping in the dusk. He challenged her reticence, teased out her toughness, assured her that she could do anything. He asked hard questions and shared the short answers. He made her giggle and celebrate the silliness of things. O, c'mon!
He couldn't love her more than he did in those growing up years, but still I know he would.
Of course, I'll be thinking of my sweet dad on her wedding day.
Picturing those fabulous blue eyes welling up with transparent joy, we will surely miss him.
As always. But for me, more than ever. He should be here.