I was a little numb at my dad's memorial service. It felt kind of like it wasn't really happening and I was having a hard time connecting. I still look back upon it in somewhat of a blur, but one beautiful image stands out in my mind. Oh, I sure wish I had a picture of it, because it was one of life's amazingly beautiful moments.
After the service when we were led out of the sanctuary, BB came to me and I reached for his hand. He is not a big hand-holder so I wasn't really sure he'd go for it, but he grabbed my hand briefly. My mom and some others walked ahead of us. BB looked at me and gently said, "No," and let go of my hand.
He walked up to my mom, looked up at her and gently reached for hers. He knew she needed his hand more than I. He wore a little suit with a vest and tie, his hair sweetly brushing the top of his collar. My mom wore a black velvet jacket over her simple knit skirt and top. I watched from behind as they walked down the stairs, around the corner, and down to the fellowship hall where lunch awaited.
Although I was a little foggy, this much is clear to me from that day. We have a sweet little boy who loves his Papa Bruce and Grandma. He is sweet like that because of his biological and adoptive parenthood. We are blessed.