There are two pictures I will always wish had been taken.
One was on Good Friday, and the other was on Mother’s Day.
On Good Friday the girls and I went for a hike that led up to the top of the hill that overlooks our town. It was a beautiful day to take an adventure, I was looking for, but not finding Calla Lilies. That particular flower grew wild around our first home, my childhood home, my grandmother’s and aunts’ homes and it always has accompanied Easter in my heart. Because we were downtown and we knew Angelo was working nearby we drove over to say hi to him.
I remember thinking about grabbing my phone to take pictures of him, but then hearing,
“No Katherine just be in the moment.“
So the girls and I followed Angelo around as he explained the layout and his work, their sweet eyes listening proudly to their Dad, engaging him with curious questions. I remember I kept saying how clean and orderly the space was, how nice it looked.
Angelo accomplished his work beautifully and excellently.
I was so very proud of him.
So were his daughters.
I didn’t take a single picture, they are all in my memories. Only word pictures survive to be shared with others.
Yesterday I went to the memorial yard, for the third time. This is the first time I was able to go by myself, the kids held my hands, giving me strength for the other visits.
I needed to take some measurements, look again at the color options, and understand the process. I’m going to incorporate some of my artwork, which I’m grateful that the owner is helping me to accomplish. I’ve been trying to decide between getting a headstone or a bench.
I never ever thought I’d have to say that or do this.
It is heartwrenching and unreal.
I’ll only do this once for my sweet husband, so I want to do it right. Being an artist requires more thought, involvement and time during the process, which also means more emotions.
I visited at length with the owner as he answered my questions and I asked if I could use some of his newspaper and a tape measure as I’d forgotten what I had meant to bring.
Of course, take what I needed.
So I grabbed the newspaper off the top of the pile and headed outside to trace the arches on the headstone and the bench I am trying to decide between.
I rustled through the paper, held a piece against each arch shape, placed the pad of paper behind it and made a quick tracing.
When I returned to his office, I casually looked at the random paper I had used and the article I had traced over.
There was an image of a house.
It was the last house Angelo worked on.
The job I experienced being so proud if him at,
doing what he did so well and was so respected for.
The truth that nothing is random and that I'm surrounded by God's goodness invaded the moment.
It was the sweetest mysterious moment, to just feel him near in this heartbreak, and to sense God‘s tender touch helping me know he’s with me, as I try my best to honor Angelo.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.
Then another angel with a gold incense burner came and stood at the altar. And a great amount of incense was given to him to mix with the prayers of God’s people as an offering on the gold altar before the throne. Revelation 8:3
January 15, 2020
Calla Lilies Angelo gave me for our anniversery because I couldn't find them on Good Friday.
Daughters Angelo gave me, because he loved.
Home Angelo gave us crowned with glorious cloudy wings and a brilliant heart.
My whole world
On a fragile
To carry my prayers
On the winds
As they soar
January 15, 2020