Heart Ache

Yesterday was a good day overall but there is one incident that still plagues my thoughts and my heart. During my visit with my grandmother she predictably pulled out her collection of new and old photographs. During this Brian was waiting, not so patiently, for his Friday trip to the grocery and out to dinner. He was sitting on the edge of the couch fidgeting and fiddling with his glass case. Ever so often he would check his watch and then show it to anyone who was paying attention. My grandmother in an attempt to keep his mind away from their routine that had been disrupted started passing small stacks of pictures over to him. As this was occuring we chatted about the new great grandchildren and other random memories. For some reason it came to all of our attention that Brian was sitting there sitting stark still just staring at one of the random photos. The photo we suddenly realized was one taken of a time long ago that was a happy time. A time that Brian would never be able to relive again, nor would the rest of us for that matter. He sniffed and stared for what seemed like an eternity. My grandmother gently reached over and took the photo from him and then looked at him softly and whispered, "Dad? I know you love him but he's gone to fly with the angels sweetheart." Brian numbly nodded his head and sniffed once more. Gran promptly sent Brian to get a tissue so that he could blow his nose. She showed me the photo and there it was, Brian sitting on Papa's lap smiling at the camera. It was obviously taken before church and Brian was dressed in a suit and bowtie. I started to cry and Gran joined in. She explained that Brian had taken Papa's death the hardest of all and that it was tough sometimes when she had to correct him. She said that when she was in the middle of fussing Brian would get tears in his eyes and say "Dad" and then point toward the heavens. It never really struck me that of any one of us that knew and adored Papa that Brian was the one who hurt perhaps more than any of us. I just made my heart ache because I too missed Papa but I'm capable to completing the grieving cycle whereas Brian and his limited cognitive abilities is not able to do so. He knows that his love is there and a part of him is missing. I wonder if he looks each afternoon, when the van drops him off from the workshop, hoping to see Papa/Dad sitting in his worn rocker waiting for his arrival. I know that my journeys to their house have been few and far between since his death simply because when my car rounds the corner my eyes immediately train themselves to the porch hoping that Papa will be sitting there. The vicious cycle of death does not end with the loved ones departure. For those we love who have moved on there are those of us on the living plain who grieve and wonder about them in their new homes in the sky.

I found myself wondering what heaven is like this morning. I wonder if heaven is different for different people. I found my self questioning what my Papa's heaven would be like. I found myself wondering if he is able to look down on our lives and see what our paths are. Does he smile with each addition to our family? Does he cry when we are in pain?

And so the cycle of death carries on as I sit here crying and pecking away on the computer trying to sort out my mortal thoughts grieving for the loss of someone very near and dear to my heart.