Every year my dad's law firm gets a box at the Rodeo. Every year, my dad rounds up ten people and we go to the rodeo watching from such close proximity that we actually get to touch the horses. When dad first got into his accident, my stomach churned at the thought of going to the rodeo without him. It was, shamefully, one of my first thoughts about how sucky his accident was that he was going to miss the rodeo that he looked forward to every year and was especially excited about attending with Kolton for his first time this year. That was on Tuesday. The tickets were for Friday and, by Friday, my stomach wasn't quite so sick. We were seeing great signs of progress and felt certain that dad was healing and going to wake up any time. We decided that he would have wanted us to use those tickets and take the children to the rodeo. Even though he, ultimately, didn't make it in this life, I'm still certain that he wanted us to go. On our way home, I called mom who couldn't bear to leave the hospital. She was just getting home to an empty house and commented on how it was dawning on her that this would be her life now; her new normal; coming home to an empty house. My heart broke, but was also comforted as I imagined her time alone would be so temporary. Now, I can hardly look at these pictures without crying as I realize that she was right.... coming home to an empty house night after night is now her new normal. And yet, my initial thought is still accurate: it is only temporary. Just as this earth, for all of us, is only our temporary home. We had a wonderful time at the Rodeo, tainted by our hearts missing our dad and grandpa and wishing to see his smiling face clapping his hands while holding kids on his lap. That hasn't changed really, life is beautiful, but there are sorrows, and I sure do miss my daddy. Every day.
