Father's Day

Father's Day is about as bad as Mother's Day. There are the obvious reasons of course but there's also another: Sunday June 15th, 2008 Father's Day; we buried our third child, our second daughter.

I remember stumbling around the graveyard with Joel, just days after Emily's death, trying to find the "perfect" plot to bury my daughter. To bury. My daughter.

Finally, I chose a spot underneath a spruce tree, away from the other graves, in a quiet corner of the cemetery.

The next day, Saturday, Joel insisted on digging the hole himself. With the help of friends and a small backhoe he did it. He made the hole for our baby girl.

I'm not sure when we actually noticed it, but sometime around there we saw that her grave had 4-5 Juneberry trees on the east and west sides. Juneberry trees for our little June bug.

Sunday. The funeral. The memorial service. What a blessing it was despite the darkness of the reality. The worship time was phenomenal. I was able to praise my Creator with lifted hands and a grateful heart. The sharing time was precious. Friends and family shared different stories and thoughts and encouraging words. I'm so thankful we have this service on video (Thanks JoAnne!), because that day was a blur. I don't remember what the weather was like, whether the sun was shining or if it was chilly. I do remember the drive up to the graveyard. Close friends and family followed the hearse. At the gravesite we sang a song: And when my heart is overwhelmed, please lead me to the rock that is higher than I, that is higher than I. 

And the casket was lowered. My son Joshua, now 8 years old, remembers this. He was three.

And Daddy grieved, with the shovel in his hand. He throws the first bit of dirt and the sound of rock on our baby girl's casket is forever etched in my memory. I remember closing my eyes, not able to bear the weight of it all.

Finally, the hole was filled. My arms full of Rachel, 16 mo old, yet my heart was torn and empty.

I don't remember much after that. The rest of the day is blank, invisible, empty.

All I know is, though her body is in the ground, Emily's soul soars in heaven.

We press forward, we press on, looking forward to the day when we will join her and our loving Father.