Hey, Guess Who Was . . . Oh, Never Mind

Thank you so much to everyone who attended Jane's memorial service today (either in the body or spirit). I know that many of you were unable to attend, and that's OK. I know your thoughts and prayers were with us.

Me and the kids went to dinner with the rest of the family later this afternoon, and while I was driving home, I though, wait till I get home and say to Jane, "guess who was there today?"

What a strange feeling that was. We shared everything with one another, and I would so much like to tell her about all the faces that I saw; many of which I have not seen for so long. I hope somehow she was able to see how wonderful the celebration was.

We are going to California tomorrow to celebrate Jane's life with her family on Thursday. I probably will not be blogging for a few days, so for those faithful readers out there, you can take a few days off. I will fill you in on how our trip to California was when we return.

Thank you all for the many wonderful cards, letters, and contributions. We count ourselves extremely fortunate to be part of such a loving family of friends and neighbors.

It is my prayer that each of you will have found a measure of healing and closure today; I know that we did. Jane is not the type of person anyone would ever get over, so let's all make a pact to NOT get over her, but to remember her fondly in all things.

Thanks again, my loving family.

Faith of a Child

These days, I keep my blood pressure cuff and stethoscope on the bed next to Jane for taking her vitals signs several times a day. This evening, our granddaughter Lily came up and sat on the bed at Jane's feet, and put the stethoscope around her neck.

Then Lily looked at grandma and said, "grandma, can I . . . can I . . . can I . . . fix you?" Jane's eyes welled up with tears, as she marveled at the complete childlike faith of this little girl.

Shortly thereafter, I took Brent, Shelly and Lily back to the hotel again, and this time as I started to drive away, it hit me. Soon this week, we'll be saying goodbye to them as they return to Michigan, and Jane will be saying goodbye to them for good.

Just then, that invisible hand reached out and grabbed me by the throat again, trying to keep me from swallowing, squeezing the very water from my eyes. After a little while, the hand releases its grip, and I return to "normal."

So now, we're settled in for the night; hoping and praying that she gets a full night's sleep; resting in the assurance that if a child can have that kind of faith, maybe we can too.