Still Gone

Always remember there is nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name.

{Avett Brothers}

Easter, 1983: Cindy, Mom, me, and Daddy

Today marks two years since my Dad passed away. These weeks and days leading up to this particular anniversary have been hard. I can so easily close my eyes and get back to that very place I was two years ago. I can remember every single detail of his last months, weeks, and days. I go back to how I felt, what I ate, where I went; I can literally recall EVERY detail leading up to the night my entire world crumbled around me. Sometimes having the ability to remember so well is not a gift, because you relive the pain over and over.

Two years out, it’s hard for me to write this because I immediately want everyone to understand that my days are filled with good things, wonderful things, wife and mother things. I am lucky. And I know it. My life is full. But I have guilt in that fullness and that guilt begs the question: how can my life be full, even though his is over?

I have a dear friend who lost her dad while she was still in college. She has said on occasion that while she would have never chosen for her dad to die, looking back she can now see God's hand in all of it. I wrestle with that because while I long to have that kind of peace with my own father's death, I desperately want to argue with God on why taking Dad before Crosby was born was not such a good idea after all. I have to remind myself to let go, and let God. I will get there, I am just not there yet. 

Speaking of Crosby, sometimes he looks at me with these eyes that immediately remind me of my dad. Like, there he is, staring back at me in the flesh. I am immediately taken aback and left speechless in the moment. I scoop him up and hug him tight and in his Crosby-like way, he squeezes me back with all his might. It's like he knows. And for a brief second, comfort and peace wash over me. 

There really is nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. The bond that God gives a family is never constraining or limiting. Even in death.

Sandy Lee Sanders

1947 - 2013

Daddy: To the Moon.... and Back.

Love,

Your Princess

This photo of Dad was taken in 1949:

Sandy LEE Sanders

And this is a photo of Crosby at 18 months old, wearing the same jeans and jean jacket:

Crosby LEE Smith

Dad would have loved this. My Mama saved this little outfit, gave it to my mom, who saved it for me and before Crosby was born, she wrapped it up with a card that said: To: Crosby, From: Pappy and Great Mama.