This weekend my family and I traveled down to Springfield to spend the weekend at my parent’s house and celebrate Father’s Day. We are having a fairly large Father’s Day celebration. My mom’s two brothers and their wives are coming into town: one from Waynesville one from up close the Iowa border. My cousin and her husband, from North Dakota, are coming into town. My other cousin and his significant other are also coming into town.
Father’s Day is not normally a huge, big shindig in my family. But this year, it is. We are all getting together to celebrate my 95-year-old grandfather, who lives on his own down the street from my mom and dad and is as sharp as a tack. This side of my family rarely all gets together. (There are many reasons why I think this is, but I won’t bore you with all of my family’s deep secrets.) We haven’t all been together since my grandmother passed away this past December. I can’t remember the time we were last all together before that.
When we were talking about coming down this weekend, Sam kept saying, “Why don’t I know these people? Who are you talking about?” He’s right. He doesn’t really know them. And again, we are back to those deep secrets that I won’t bore you with.
No family is perfect. We are human and we say things and do things that hurt. Some hurts are harder to heal. Some hurts never heal, they just scab over and who wants to pick a scab? We have lost time together. It feels a bit awkward, learning how to connect with each other again. There are gaps. We are missing the stories of each other’s daily lives. There are lots of words unspoken that lay between us. But it is a new day. We don’t know how many of these days we will have left with my grandpa. I am going to embrace today.