march.

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i have been having some pretty sad days lately.  and the weather has been a bit gloomy, which doesn't help.  i knew i could identify some of the reasons why i've been feeling so down: my ailing grandparents, feeling busy and stretched with the girls and other tasks, being low on sleep... but saturday it hit me like a ton of bricks; it's march.

march maddness.  dad and i always watched together when we could, and always, always filled out brackets to compete against one another.

the 22nd is my dad's birthday.  he always loved "his" day; birthdays were his thing.  if you ever met him--even once--chances are he had your birth date memorized.  it was amazing.  like, rain man amazing.  and, also indicative of just how much he loved people.  right down to the tiniest detail.

i find myself wondering daily if there will ever be a day where my heart doesn't ache because of missing my dad so much.  and i almost hope there won't be, because i don't ever want to forget just how much i loved him.

that's the funny thing about grief; you so desperately want the pain to go away, and yet you're afraid that someday it will... that you will somehow move on.  and that doesn't feel good either.

i still have nights that are so hard.  when i close my eyes sometimes, i can see my dad's face.  or hear his laugh.  or feel his arms squeezing me in one of his bear hugs that he was so famous for.  i can hear him talking excitedly about life, and i can remember the sound of his voice softly singing to bella... or telling mom "can you even believe she's ours?!"

it's amazing how little things can wreck you, when you are grieving the loss of someone.  a song on the radio.  a cherished memory.  or for me, seeing other grandparents playing with their grandkids.  something i'll never get to see my parents do together.

and that absolutely kills me.

i haven't talked about my journey of missing my dad in a while.  and i think it has caught up with me in the last week.  i'm a person that externally processes  my emotions.  i wear my heart on my sleeve.  and sometimes i find it difficult to talk about this horrible path i've been walking for the last year and a half.  i am beyond BLESSED by so many friends and a wonderful family who genuinely love me and care for me.  i just struggle with picking up the phone and saying "hey, can i talk about how much i miss my dad?"  which i know i need to work on.

it's been a rough few weeks.  my dad was an only child, and he was survived by both of my grandparents who are now 91 and 86 years old.  in the last month we have had to admit both of them into the hospital, and then transfer them to a rehabilitation facility.  i've always been incredibly close to my grandparents; i still would spend the night with them when i came home from college.  i can't think of many childhood memories that aren't wrapped up in my grandparents.

since losing my dad, visiting them has been such a source of comfort to me.  i feel so close--so connected--to him, as i see him in each of them.  their mannerisms, their looks.  with their health deteriorating so quickly, i have found myself in another wave of grief.  not only saying goodbye to my grandparents, but bidding farewell to two people that anchor me in my father's memory.

as i struggle through this month, i am determined to count my blessings.  to savor the moments.  to love well. these things do not come easy in dark days, and i have failed miserably some days, and will continue to.  but there are so many things all around me that can lighten the burden weighing down so heavily on my heart.

help me to see them, lord.  and to thank you for them.

"blessed are those whose strength is in you,

whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.

as they pass through the valley,

they will make it a place of springs."

(psalm 84:5)