Saying Goodbye Well.

We've all experienced loss in many shapes and sizes.  For me, the most gut-wrenching, still takes-my-breath-away, permanent loss has been my dad's death just about 18 months ago.  I think about him every day, when I watch Annie water ski, push Jackson in his red car, get Quincy's bike out of the garage, or (accidentally) hit a curb in my car (and hear him tell me that would have ruined the axle;).  Lately I wonder what he would think about us going to Lithuania.  He wasn't always too excited about this out-of-the-ordinary choice, but he was always supportive and always came to visit.  I'm going to grieve that he can't join us on this journey.

My dad's death was rather sudden.  He was battling cancer, but he was still at home, still doing many normal things, and still so positive.  And even though we never got the chance for a final good-bye, my dad had said all the things we needed to hear.  Aaron, our kids, and I don't wonder how much he loved us and how much he prayed for us.  It allows me to grieve his loss fully, without reservation.  And it showed us how important it is to say what needs to be heard, to let others know just how much they mean to us.  I visit his grave a couple times a month, for me it's a chance to live into my grief and just sit with what I remember his presence to be.  It's where I look for his affirmation and encouragement, and remember his voice.  There are big events and small moments when it is so hard to not share life with him anymore.

The permanence of his loss in our lives has helped to frame the temporary leaving we will do when we go to Lithuania.  Certainly we will miss our family and friends, more than I really can imagine at this point.    We will miss our parents watching our kids while we work, block parties, and hosting Aaron's birthday feasts.  Our kids will certainly miss birthday parties with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, the first day of school in the new LSA building, and being with their small group on Tuesday nights.  But sparing major tragedy or unexpected moves, we will likely see most of our family and friends again.  And similar to hearing my dad, we take with us the bits and pieces of you all that we've collected along the way.

So this past week and the next 2 weeks before we leave, we are working to say good-bye well.  To us, it means letting "our people" know just how much you all mean to us, so that you don't have to wonder:) It meant stopping to say perhaps a final good-bye to Aaron's grandmother, who just turned 93.  It means extending ourselves a bit more than we might like, just to have breakfast, coffee, or a walk with someone.  It means having a 7-year-old birthday party well in advance.  And in the midst of all of this, we feel so much gratitude, that God has brought you all into our lives, that you are so enthusiastic for this next adventure, and that you have offered so many prayers on our behalf!

We love you:)  A year seems not very long, and like forever, all at the same time.  

On the 4th of July, my family, mom, siblings, nieces, nephew, aunt, uncle, and cousins gathered for a great day at the lake.  A day my dad planned:)  Not this year, but several years ago as he accumulated games, water toys, and so many intangible things for us to have fun, enjoy, and show us love.  And at the end of the night, we launched paper lanterns into the sky.  So fitting for so many reasons:)