Inside: In honor of my dad’s birthday, I’ve written about his favorite flowers, funeral slide shows, the heaviness of grief, kind friends and where my heart is now. ~

I was at Wal-Mart recently, headed toward the insect repellant, when Bob Seger’s “Like a Rock” came on the instore music system. I don’t recall ever hearing the song before one of my brothers chose it as part of the accompaniment for the slide show at my dad’s funeral.

That presentation was 45 minutes long—the longest the funeral home had ever done. I guess that’s to be expected when a person has seven children who had just buried their mom less than two months earlier.

Maybe the slide show was so long because it was our last chance to honor our parents in this way. We had to get as many photographic memories on that screen as we possibly could.

That day in Wal-Mart, I stood in front of the bug spray, listened to Bob Seger and thought about how my dad was a rock in my life—the one person who always made me feel better simply by being in his presence.

I miss him so much.

Ebb and Flow of Life

My dad’s birthday was May 28. He died on May 29, five years ago.

The peonies were especially beautiful during his last few weeks. Fitting, since they were his favorite flower.

I’m not sure I’ve seen such a display since then. Not this year, that’s for sure. A few of my plants—descendants from the peonies in the yard of my childhood home—didn’t even bloom at all.

They’re too shaded now, and probably also suffering from several years of less-than-normal rainfall.

The peonies’ recent performance makes me sad, but it also reminds me of the ebb and flow of life.

I’m certain mine would do better if I moved them, watered them, fertilized them. At this point, though, I’m not sure I have the energy for that. Instead, I’m turning my sights toward more drought-tolerant perennials—sedum, to be exact.

Three new varieties now grace my front flower bed. I have high hopes for them but, as Dad would often say, I guess we’ll see.

Words with Staying Power

I wrote about the peonies in a blog post I published five years ago today. I don’t recall writing many of the posts I shared during that intense time, but I do remember that one.

I scratched it out on a piece of paper on the way home from Iowa, where several of my siblings and parts of our families traveled to see my nephew graduate from high school.

I read it now and marvel at how I was able to string those words together, words that evoke the same feeling I get when I see my parents’ headstone. Both post and stone remind me of the saddest, hardest season of my life so far, and yet both are exactly right.

Ever since I started blogging almost 10 years ago, I’ve tried to answer every blog comment. I’ve broken plenty of other blogging rules, but this is one I’ve mostly followed.

That week, I didn’t respond to a single comment. Those precious unanswered words are still there, though, and when I read them recently, they touched my heart deeply.

It was a heavy time around here, for months on end. And yet, many of you stuck with me. I’m so grateful for that, for your prayers and encouraging words.

The grief has softened, as my GriefShare facilitator promised it would. I still remember, though. And my heart remains with others who have taken the journey before me, are on it now, or expect to be there soon.

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.