All Is Well

While wandering the grocery store aisles the other day, my eyes fell upon a carton of butter brickle ice cream.  I rarely buy ice cream, especially since Jason can't have it right now.  As the cashier was ringing it up, I blurted out that butter brickle had been my dad's favorite.
My grief seems to ebb and flow in no particular pattern these days.  There are periods when I simply don't allow myself to think about my dad since it's too painful.  There are other days when I wish to talk about him to family and friends who are gracious enough to listen...and to complete strangers, apparently.  It's been difficult sharing my thoughts with Jason, since he's not able to remember that we lost Dad.  It seems selfish to remind him again and again, just so I can share my feelings.
There are times when I'm able to laugh about puns that he would have enjoyed.  I can happily reminisce with my siblings about memories of him. However, there are still certain hymns that cause me to quietly flee my pew in search of tissues. There are still times when I just wish to hear his voice.
I know we are told not to grieve as those who have no hope.  I know that death has no victory; no sting.  I find immense comfort in the promise of being caught up together in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.  I pray that I can eventually feel entirely at peace.

"I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.  All is well." -Henry Scott Holland