Day Four Hundred and Twenty

The Viewing

There's those certain days each year that scream at you to punch something. Yesterday was one of those days. Thankfully we had a gym to use instead of the backside of someone's head. The funeral home set up a final viewing of my father, so 8 of us decided to go and say one last goodbye. He looked incredible. So handsome. So peaceful. It was devastating more than ever though. I kept waiting for his chest to raise or his eyes to suddenly flicker open. For his leg to twitch and a snore to burst out of his nose. I waited and waited. But nothing happened. That's when it finally sunk in...this is real. My father is no longer here on the Earth with me. Or my family. And while I am at peace with where he is now, it still sucked more than ever.

To release some inner tension, we were able to get into my high school's gym and burn a few calories. That normally always makes me feel just a little bit better.

Our day never fully recovered after that. I cried every inch of my makeup off and wasn't up for much of anything. Adam was exhausted. We were sweaty, teary, and stinky. But we soon discovered that sitting in a pool of lame thoughts and emotions wasn't an option either. It was too hard. So, we changed our clothes and attitudes and went to a hockey game instead. And we won. So there. 

And then, to add a small (and frightened) smile to our face, this is what greeted us at a gas station door on the way back home. Ha! Good 'Ol Spokane.

____________________________________________________________

There was one other highlight to our day. And I couldn't leave it out. I also couldn't take a picture of it, so I'll explain:

12 years ago, when my dad was first diagnosed with cancer, I was devastated. Completely broken. And feeling horribly alone. At the time, I was a competitive gymnast and spent every weekday at the gym. I'll never forget the one afternoon that Dad drove me to practice. In a panic for my dad's life, I completely lost it. I broke down and just remember crying and crying. He pulled over and we talked for a couple hours. I told him how afraid I was and how I didn't want him to die...how it wasn't fair that he had to be the one suffering through this. He held me close and told me it would be ok. Even if he died. And then he said something to me that I'll never forget. "Kendall, at my funeral, I want you to do something for me. I want you to sing this song." On the radio, Sarah McLaughlin was singing "I Will Remember You." It's a song our whole family grew up singing together. On road trips, she was always in the car with us as we sung along to her songs. I promised him I would and started practicing soon after. 

When we exited the viewing room yesterday, after spending an hour with my dad, eyes red, heart aching, and emotions racing, "I Will Remember You" was playing in the lobby. And I couldn't help but think that that was Dad trying to tell us that he really is ok.