Ten years ago today, my Father died. I woke up this morning right at the time my Mother had telephoned me that day, telling me Pop needed to go to the hospital. I woke again right about the time when the doctor had entered the room at the ER to tell us he had passed. It was a very bad day.

Sometimes, over the past ten years, I wondered why we were all still here without Pop and Mama-they were the lynch pin that held us together.

Pop wasn’t well towards the end, actually, for the last year or so of his life, he struggled with his back, his knees, and the loss of his active life. He loved being out at the grocery store, the golf course, anywhere. I remember before his back surgery, he said he hoped maybe he could play golf again. That didn’t happen, and the surgery didn’t cure anything. Bodies fall apart, people die, and families are shattered. Life happens.

Things change. That is what surprised me the most. I thought, way down somewhere in the optimistic part of my soul, that everything would always be the same, nothing bad ever happened that couldn’t be fixed, and time would make it all better. I was wrong.

He is gone, and ten years later, I still worry about society and the world, money, crime, addiction, depression, aging skin, sickness, and death. I worry about change and losing people. But it all happens anyway. Life happens.

But light happens too. I have learned that there are incredibly sweet people, like a lovely friend who brought me flowers years ago on this day and made me cry. She told me she loved me, that she was thinking about me, gave me the most beautiful sparkly poinsettia, and left, giving me space to grieve.

I remember the cards, flowers, Facebook posts, emails, and phone calls that day and week ten years ago. I remember being surprised by the friends who checked on me, stood by me, and asked about my Mama. All lights in the dark.

Loss and grief are real, and no, they don’t go away. But life does go on, and we are still here. We either get busy dying or get busy living.

I know what Poppy would want us to do.

Focus on the lights, not the dark. Be grateful and happy for the memories and a life well lived. Life and death bring changes, and we can’t go backward. So we must go forward.

Five years ago on this night, I saw a shooting star. I believe God was telling me yet again that Poppy is alright. I know he is. I also know we will see him again someday. That is a blessing. A light in the dark.

Ten years ago, I never dreamed I would be married to the love of my life, living in the home my parents lived in.

And knowing my sweet, beautiful parents are together now in Heaven.

God is real. 

And He did not forget me…or Poppy. Or Mama. Or you.

Ever.