Today I was walking through Meijer getting my weekly shopping completed. I was on the search for a headlight that is burnt out on Andrew's car, and I stumbled upon fishing poles. I was unprepared to stand there and tear up in the grocery, and yet that is exactly what I did. My dad loved fishing...it was his favorite hobby, and a connection that he shared with Robert. I hadn't thought about all of the things that would remind me of Dad and how much they would hurt. It's been 3-1/2 months, and I am beginning to wonder if I will ever get through a day without crying at some point. It seems so selfish, because he was so very, very sick, but it is what it is.
And that led me to understand that I have a hole in my heart, and I always will. It's much, much bigger than the ones that my grandfathers and other loved ones have left, but I realize that those holes are still there too. Having children (or someday, grandchildren) doesn't fill those holes, but I believe that our hearts do grow bigger and we are able to have even more love in our lives...but the holes left by our dear loved ones are still there. Somehow, realizing that is comforting.
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