Every year since my father and husband passed away, we all struggle just a little bit to figure out ways to continue to celebrate them on Father’s Day. As the years move on (12 years now), the kids and I are starting to laugh again at the memories of my father –

Always choosing the seats up front at St. Matthews church for midnight mass (us stumbling in after drinking way too much Christmas Eve Wine and my Dad standing up and waving at us –“Over here, I saved you all seats!” and us dying…)

This week, the final domino fell for us, having lost our beloved black lab Oliver. I called him Braveheart because he was just that for me. He lived almost 15 years and was picked out and brought home by Carl. I recall Adyn calling me at work and saying, “Dad brought home a puppy,” and me responding with “wrong number” and hung up. (sigh)

On my first Mother’s Day with Carl, I remember him telling me ~ “Am I supposed to do something for you? You are not my mom.” (Can you picture me? Or my face?)

As my daughter and I excitedly set out to Houston for meetings, at the back of our minds was the lingering thought of a delicate pick-up from a funeral home in Katy, Texas. We encountered pounding rain driving into the city; the rain feeling somewhat symbolic- like tears, a heavy release pouring down.