Photo courtesy Kelley Bittner Photography |
Time doesn't heal all wounds. It's a nice cliche. I think this last year has been the worst with missing my dad since he passed away. I have cried many an evening and have said, "I wish I could talk to Dad." I got married -- a lifelong dream of mine -- and I had to settle for a photo of my father being walked down the aisle. No matter how close the friend is who gave me away "on behalf of her parents", it's not the same as having Dad there. Dad was big as life and twice as loud. I can only imagine how loud he would have laughed at the master illusionist we had as our wedding entertainment instead of dancing.
Earlier this year I entered a contest where I won a $500 jewelry gift card. I had to take a photo of a piece of jewelry that is special and tell the story behind it. My dad's class ring which he lost when he was fighting a fire in the early 1960s which was returned to him in the mid 2000s was the subject of my entry. I bought my husband's and my wedding rings with that gift card. It was like Dad gave us a wedding gift. But I still wish he would have been at my wedding.
Although, as I mentioned in the post I wrote entitled Our Slice of Eternity, it felt like we were in the midst of a great cloud of witnesses. Some who went before us, some who will come after we are gone. I could see my parents' grave from where we got married, and it felt as if their love was present that day. But I still wish I could have had Dad walk me down the aisle.
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