This is the last photo I have of Dad and his grandchildren in front of his house (from over three years ago).
He is in a far better place now and whilst it still seems to take a bit of getting used to, I know that he knows he is loved even if he is no longer walking among us.
Looking at this picture, I’m struck by the rather impertinent thought that where that neighbourhood had six of us living within a couple of blocks of each other in three houses, now there are none of us still there.
But the more I think on it, that isn’t exactly true and it’s something I’ve been mulling over ever since I made the quick run to Florida to close the sale of his house and van.
Even six months on whilst standing in that empty house on the morning of closing, I still had this sense that no matter what happened later that morning, to me it will always be HIS home. He spent more years there than anywhere else I can think of and even though I’m quite sure the wonderful couple who have found their new home will make many precious memories of their own, there will always be a small piece of his spirit there.
In what form, I cannot say but if I were to take a guess as to where that bit of his spirit might find some rest…I’d say it will be the huge golden rain tree that dominates the front yard which was a mere sapling we planted when we moved in there 31 years ago. He was a farmer at heart like his father was before him, after all!