So Much to Say

 

• 23 days since Dad was diagnosed with Covid
• 18 days since he his hospital admission
• 15 days since he was moved to the ICU
• 10 days ago, he passed
•   2 days ago, we celebrated his life with a funeral mass
•   1 day ago, Cathy, Beck and I returned home

Time is playing tricks on me. It's moving much too fast and yet I slowly trod through the minutes. I know It's not just me. The whole family is adjusting to whatever this new normal is without Dad being available to call up and ask what type of paint brush to use on trim work or to share a kiddo's latest accomplishment - he always had the BEST reactions to even the most minor wins. 

Speaking of new normals, the picture I've shared here is certainly missing someone pretty central, but it was taken with love and as much joy as we could muster. 

Backstory sidebar: I was chatting with a dear friend the day after Dad passed, who like many just wanted to "do something!" I looked up at a mirror at that moment and I asked 'you know what, can you take these bags (under my eyes) away?' I could barely see - grief will do that. We laughed and moved on. Well, the next day, an industrial size box of Hollywood-worthy under eye masks arrives at my doorstop. 

The night before Dad's funeral, I brought these eye masks out and we all prepped for the next day - including Richard. He was a good sport. I will remember watching him deliberate this decision...he reminded me so much of how Dad would approach an outrageous idea that one of his girls would toss out. Not a "no", but certainly not an immediate "yes", either - but you just know he's going to cave to the ridiculousness. 

Not to be outdone, my brother in law, Chris, and nephews, Jack and Patrick glammed up with us as well. To spare the dignities of these teen boys, we will not post those pictures (yet). I'm sure they will make an appearance at a future slide show though.

But this post is not intended to be a therapeutic engine. Although, I could go on, and on...and on.

It's meant firstly to inform - for anyone that missed Dad's funeral mass and/or Cathy's poignant eulogy that she delivered immediately preceding the service, you can view it by clicking here.

Secondly, I'd be remiss if I didn't attempt to offer our most sincere thanks to all of you that have walked with us on this journey that none of us wished to walk on. Our online and virtual prayer and friendship and extended family warriors are simply astounding. Truly, the love and compassion we've felt has been so meaningful. You've tended to our posts, responded to the call and so many have sent thoughtful cards, gifts, flowers and have helped in ways unimaginable. I know for me, personally, there were several text chains throughout that just buoyed my spirits and I'm not alone. Cathy and Becky felt the same from their own support networks. One thing I keep repeating is that "blessed" can be such an overused term, but not in our case. In our case, it's wholly appropriate. We are blessed beyond measure.

And then there is the local Indialantic and Melbourne community, primarily centered around the Holy Name of Jesus Community. Wow. It's hard to articulate just how this community is capable of mobilizing around a family in need of support. From mass dedications, to meals, paper products, dog walking (Lilly extends her paws), and of course the overwhelming attendance of Dad's funeral mass with the majestic Knights of Columbus and their regalia on display, it was just all so beautiful. And I couldn't help but think about the comfort that Dad delivered to other grieving families in the many funerals he attended in his full regalia. It made me swell with pride. Perhaps the only thing comforting me as the last daughter to exit Florida, Thursday, was knowing that Mom is surrounded by such a phenomenal community of faith and love. "Thank you" is simply not worthy for this remarkable community, but at this moment, it's all I have to offer in my word bank. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Finally, I'll sign off here and say goodbye to this blog that became such a comfort to me in these 15 days. I'm humbled by so many people having followed along Dad's story through this blog. It truly was intended to inform, but really was therapeutic for me, so thanks for letting me sort out some of that headspace here on the interwebs. Not sure how Dad would have felt about any of it. He would have been alarmed at my grammar and many of my word choices - I know that much. :)

Peace and love to you all, 

Saunders Six