The days following the loss of a loved one are some of the hardest days that we live in our lifetimes. In the past few days, following the death of my sweet daddy on Saturday, mornings have been the hardest. I wake up and for the briefest of moments, I’ve forgotten. Then I remember.
Monday morning, Jen published a post about her Mother’s Day. I knew she had included something about my weekend, but didn’t know what. Turns out, Jen and her family headed to Hotel Del Coronado for the day. It also turns out that for years when I was a child, my family and I headed to Hotel Del Coronado for our vacations. My dad loved it there. It reminded him of a European hotel, and in those days, was an intimate place with impeccable service, and bellhops and waiters who met you upon check-in and greeted you by name during your stay. Right up dad’s alley.
My dad didn’t really like to sit on the beach for very long, his fair skin burning too easily, but he passed his days there playing tennis, strolling the grounds, and reading on our balcony overlooking the sand and sea.
And last summer, when dad was too weak to take our planned trip to New Orleans, we retreated to the shores of The Del once again. Instead of the Mississippi River, we walked along the Pacific Ocean, hand in hand, talking of everything and nothing all at once.
Whether it was God, fate, Universe, Spirit, or just coincidence that led Jen and her family to Coronado, I don’t know. Maybe it was a quiet whisper from my dad that things will be ok, even though right now it doesn’t feel like things will ever be ok.
But for the rest of my life, I will listen for his whispers, see his hand watching over us, and always remember my sweet dad with a tearful smile.