After Jack died, I decided to start attending the local Unitarian Universalist Church with the girls. Jack and I had talked about doing so awhile back but hadn't gone yet, so I figured that now would be a good time to start after his passing. We went on Easter, and we went again today. Today's celebration was a Beltaine (May Day) celebration, complete with a may pole. Cool! The Beltaine service felt comfortable and familiar, and it was very Pagan. (I'm glad to have found a place that includes Earth-based religion in its services, although it is not limited to that.) It was also a kid-friendly service, which was a new experience for me. When they called the kids up for part of the service, Sarah wound up playing the part of the May Queen. She went along and went where she was told, and she got to wear the pretty crown of green plastic flowers. Gabby just followed right along Sarah, almost as her assistant. This was totally unrehearsed and totally charming. And I remember thinking that Jack would have been so proud of his little girl playing the part of the May Queen, and hoping that he was looking down on us from Summerland. It was bittersweet. (Hopefully, the person who was taking pictures will email me a few. When he does, I'll post one here.)
There are also times when we just plain miss him. The girls talk every day about missing Papa. It's not the big stuff, it's the little, everyday stuff. It's the empty chair across from me at the dinner table. It's him not being here to help with the kids. It's the conversations we'd have about all kinds of things. It's the laughter and the fun. He was a silly guy at times, and I miss that. It's watching late night TV with him next to me sometimes. It's wanting to pick up the phone and call him and talk to him, but there's no phone number for Summerland. Just his presence. He was a guiding force in our family. He kept on telling Sarah that I was the center of their world. Well, he was the center of mine. And he and I together were the center of the girls' world. Not having that is tough at times. But somehow we're muddling through. One day at a time. Sometimes it's one minute at a time. But we're muddling through.