People were already leaning against the walls around the mortuary when we sat down in the last two chairs on the end of the back row. I wasn’t sure where to sit at my brother’s funeral.
My husband leaned over to ask about the people in the old photos scrolling on the screen hanging from the ceiling. He recognized the one of the eight- year- old girl holding her brother in footed pajamas across her lap. I began explaining the crooked arm of my family tree in a whisper, when a friend stood up and waved us over to the front row.
I told her I assumed there wasn’t enough room.
It’s what my father told me on the phone when I asked if I could live with him during my teen years. I’ve been hesitant to assume there is a place for me now.
Will you join me over at BibleDude.net to read the rest of the story? I want to thank you for following me there last month, my first post at Living the Story was third in the number of views for the website in the month of October. Doing the happy dance over that one! I would be honored to see you over there in the comments again this month.
Shelly, I tried to comment at Bible Dude’s, but it didn’t seem to take, and now I don’t see any comments at all. So I will just leave this here, with thanks, for your beautiful post!
Such a lovely and poignant post, Shelly, of isolation and longing, endings and beginnings. How I pray that your father will continue to pull you into the circle of his friends, and especially into the circle of his heart, enclosing you safely in his love. This post gripped me, because I lost Daddy five years ago. He was not demonstrative, and while I have no doubt of his love for me, sometimes I sat on the back pew of his life because of his workaholism and inability to *express* his love. But death…..his impending one at the time…..had a way of dissolving walls and letting love escape to encircle us both in its embrace. I wish with all my heart that I could have him back, but I treasure the days preceding his death, days where even in his weakness, his love grew strong. I rejoice that your father was able to break down the barriers and invite you back into his life. I am so happy for what is the beginning of new life to an old relationship. I am praying for you, dear one, for fresh fruit and beautiful blossoms springing forth from locust years.
Love, Lynn
Thank you Lynn, I’m praying the same thing. Sorry you had trouble commenting over at Bible Dude but grateful you left on here.