He waited up
Dear Izzy, Max, and Kate,
I went to a visitation last night for a friend whose dad passed away. He had been sick for a long time.
We stood in the funeral home, shaking hands, sharing stories about his dad, sharing stories about each other, and catching up. There was a lot of laughter in the room. I think that’s how his dad would have wanted it. I’m certain it’s how he remembered the the times he spent around his son’s friends.
The room was smaller than I remembered from previous funerals I’ve been to there. More closed in. Maybe that’s the passage of time.
I shook hands. Gave more hugs. we talked about not letting so much time slip away between the times we see each other. I talked about you kids a lot.
After an hour of visiting I left to make the hour long drive home. I got home around 9pm to a dark house. I was tired and I smiled as I realized that Mommy must have you kids in bed already. A single lamp was on in the foyer and a candle burned in the kitchen. I tossed my sport coat on the chair in the dark living room and untucked my shirt.
Mommy left me a note on the kitchen table:
And on the couch, in the dark of our living room, I found you.
I didn’t feel closed in anymore. Hope overwhelmed me. You had waited up. That waiting is the hope we all share in Faith.
I carried you to bed, Max. Kissed your sisters who were already in their beds asleep. Laid down beside mommy. And said a prayer for my friend.
I love you,