It's the little things

In the thin veil where night begins to meet a new day you left this world. 

Last Saturday we were gathered, the mood was heavy.

We wanted to leave but you pulled us in, beckoning us to stay a little while longer.  You knew, you knew the days that lie before us would be transform us and you wanted us close.  

I wanted to leave. I wanted to take a break but you called to Emma, asking her to stay and after a short nap you lulled us awake so that we might have another moment with you. 

Your spirit left you in peace. As your body was prepared for your transport we stood shoulder to shoulder, tears flowed freely and we let your love envelope us.  

My spirit is broken, my heart uncertain and my body weary in the realization that your heavy footsteps will never again come down the hallway.  

I wonder did you know, did you hear how much I loved you?  Did I say it to you often enough?  I know you hear me now. 

The pecans sit on the stairs waiting for another day of standing in the kitchen making pecan turtles. Half my life carving out a day to stand with you in the kitchen, (always forgetting an ingredient and sending Luke to the store) to create something to share with others.  

The real butter sits in the refrigerator waiting at your request as we slice fresh, hot out of the oven, cast-iron skillet cornbread for dinner.

My mashed potatoes will never measure up to yours. 

Your truck will continue to carry us down backroads, trash runs and onto more redneck adventures than we can imagine. We won't be carrying a cast iron skillets in our packs but we'll put miles under our feet and give thanks for the paths that we traveled together.  We'll head back to Big South Fork and lean back in your favorite chairs that traveled with you from TN to Yellowstone.

The wood chips that covered you from head to toe are represented in the bowls, platters, cutting boards and vases that encompass our home. They sit not as mere decorations but as a constant reminder of your generosity and love. Reminding me that I come from a line of creative beings and that creativity lives within me each time I craft a sermon or write a blog. 

Every time I fill a mason jar I will add a bit of you sass, and smile as I think of your favorite margarita mix with frozen mangos at the dinner table. 

Handmade suspenders, bright orange shirts, red paint and tools scattered to the far ends of the earth will return me to your spirit, remind me to be creative and to look for unconventional solutions. 

I'll never put nuts in my baked goods but I'll carry your request deep within my heart and soul as I bake, adding a bit of your love so that it might taste a bit better. 

Luke's grilling skills will never compare to the ease at which you stood above the fire, basting, turning and bringing a meal to perfection.  

Sam runs will look different, but I'll stop and have a hot dog and coke in your honor.  We'll eat salsa and burritos at Las Palmas, order you new favorite Mac and Bacon Pizza from Long Hollow Pizza, head over to Center Point BBQ for some thick cut fries, and enjoy a sweet treat from Krispy Kreme especially when the hot sign is on. 

The fall of your heavy steps linger in my ears and your loud laughter in my being. 

We've saved your napkin because you will always have a place at our table, the bench is always open for your spirit and love to return.

On your birthday we'll still bake you a chocolate cake, make the marshmellow and raise a glass to you. 

The hours have slid into days and the days are soon turning into a week.  Time is passing, life is moving forward and my soul is flitting to and fro.  I wouldn't trade a thing, I would build a thousand more sheds to hold you crap and pack a million more boxes in order to ensure we could live together for this short season. 

May I live into my name sake and carry your spirit within me as I proudly write Amanda Dayle across all my legal documents.

The condo is quiet but my heart is filled with your laughter.