Of loss and men

Every now and again, I see a man who reminds me ever so much of my dad. It's usually in the eyes. Today was one of those days. I was pushing another cart out of another store, when I looked up and saw my dad's eyes.

As I continued to my car, I once again wished my dad were still with us.

Then I started to wonder what dad would say or feel about my infertility. He always thought I'd have kids, of course - why wouldn't he? I wondered how much I'd let him know. After all, I'm not all that open with my family about it - but they do all know.

There's so much loss in this life, isn't there? Sometimes it sneaks up out of nowhere and chokes you. Sometimes it's enough to make you feel like you're absolutely drowning in it.

I think my dad would have been an amazing grandpa - and I wish my sweet niblings could know him. I wish we had kids. I think he'd be so proud of me, if we did. I never really gave him much of a chance to be proud of me, in his far too short of a life. I hope he wouldn't be disappointed in me, in my infertility.

I know that someday I will be in a place where there are no more tears and no more loss. But in the here and now, they are always - always - just behind my smile.

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." (Revelation 21:4)