The changing leaves. The cool, crisp air. Hayrides. Bonfires. This is one of my favorite times of the year. But in the midst of these things are memories of a trip home to see my Mom and Dad. Sitting out in the lawn chairs while the kids played. Josiah getting to sit in Dad's newly built plane while he started the engine. Hugs goodbye before we traveled home. The softness of my Daddy's sweatshirt and not realizing it would be the last time I would hug him this side of eternity. A little over a week later, a pulling on my heart and then a phone call. He was gone.
Every year these feelings swirl together. The season I love and the biggest heartache of my life. It's difficult to find balance. The hole will always be there, but I'm learning to live with it (most days). The beauty of the season reminds me of what my Dad must have thought on that fateful day... It's a beautiful day to fly a plane.
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I know what you mean about the events mixing for you. I was 10 weeks pregnant with Marissa when Dad died. Mom died the day Shelby turned 2 months old. Some part of me always feels like I traded a parent for a child, even though I know that's not true. I think in a way those mixed events are a gift from God. Eventually when the pain is less and the good memories more, it makes it an even more pleasant season to be in. :-)
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