Last year this date came on a Thursday. I don’t remember anything about the day except we got a phone call late that evening, quickly got dressed again, and hurried to my dad’s house to sit with my now widowed mom.
Today Melanie will take mom to dad’s crypt so she can place some new flowers. Mom has now moved next door to us and has supper with us several times a week. A friend from her Sunday School class lives close by and drives her to church each week. We’ve moved several pieces of furniture from the old house into mom’s new digs. But Dad’s desk and the Bible he was reading the day he died are still in place where he left them, his reading glasses resting on the open page.
At his funeral one memory my brothers and I chuckled over was the way Dad would always insist we go to the Sunday night service at church even on the one week each year when The Wizard of Oz was being shown on TV. This week, Oz is back in the theaters around the country, transformed into a modern 3-D version. It sounds interesting but I don’t know if I’ll have the time to check it out.
That’s partly because this weekend there are a couple of other funerals of friends to attend, including one friend who has now also lost his father.
And there’s a big project I’m working on with Melanie. I am helping get her first book into shape for publication. Fourteen years ago I helped my dad do that with his memoir of a historic Pentecostal revival in his native land of Chile. I’m sure dad would be delighted to hear about Melanie’s book and would be tickled to welcome her to the Hoover Authors’ Circle. But it will be awhile before we can call that meeting to order.
There have been a few other stories and news items and questions I’ve wanted to share with dad lately. They remain on the to-do list, the calls unplaced. I just find other things to do. That’s something I’ve been learning to do for a year now.