A Trip "Home"

This past weekend the boys and I ventured to WV. hubby had to stay behind and work unfortunately. Since both boys were off from school Monday, I decided to take advantage of the long weekend and go "home" to see my Mamaw. I hadn't been home since my Papaw passed away in late May. I didn't really think much about it having an effect on me, but I should have.

Just walking into Mamaw & Papaw's house was strange. I had grown so accustomed to seeing Papaw sitting in his lounge chair (which is what Mamaw calls it, it's actually a recliner). However, this time the chair was empty. He wasn't there for me to walk over to and share a gentle hug with. There was no laughter in the air. Papaw always had a witty one liner even when he didn't quite feel up to par due to his cancer. This time, instead of visiting with Papaw and soaking up his aura, Mamaw and I just sat and talked about him. We happily reminisced about days gone by. Memories are such precious and comforting things. I'm so very fortunate that I have a zillion wonderful, happy ones of the man God was gracious enough to let me call "Papaw."

I had the same empty feeling on Sunday when the boys and I walked into church. I never, ever walked through those doors that Papaw wasn't standing in the foyer to greet me. Of course he greeted everyone as they entered since he was the official Toneda greeter and bulletin passer-outer. However, he always made me feel extra special since he was usually pretty stingy with his hugs and I always got one! Then, later during the service, while the offetory hymn was being sang Papaw didn't come in. That was always his que to slip in the pew beside Mamaw. After greeting people, it was his job to count them...children's church, regular church, the nursery, etc. After we'd sit down he'd pull out his bulletin (which he always folded in half long ways) and show Mamaw the final count. She'd look at him and smile. Then, inevitably, he'd reach over and gently grasp her hand and hold it throughout the sermon.

We couldn't possibly leave without going to the cemetery to see his headstone. Since the last time we were there was for his funeral, I'd only heard about it. It's beautiful...or as beautiful as one can be I suppose. I know he's not there and he never has been. He's been with his Heavenly Father since the moment he left his body. It's just so surreal to actually see his name on a grave marker. He was my rock. I never even imagined my life without him being in it, physically that is. It's been five months now and I'm still not used to it. I truly don't know if I'll ever really be. My life as I have known it for 34 years is forever altered. I am blessed however....for I will see him again in his heavenly home and I know he'll be happy to show me around. Now I just have to get used to the fact that "home" will no longer be the same when I visit. That only makes sense really, since a large part of what made home "home" is now gone.