Funny how it happens.

You’re going along in your life, handling stuff, feeling like you’ve moved past the sad place.  You’ve written some about truck stuff and felt strong doing it.  You spent an evening talking to a young woman whose mother was killed by a truck a year ago and you were glad to give her an outlet, help her plan some of her new and unexpected future.  You felt good about being able to listen objectively with less personal emotion.

Yet this morning you feel a little off.  The dog gets you up early, before light, and as you stumble into clothes to take her out, wander through the house to get a jacket, it occurs to you that the house was being remodeled the last time your Dad was here and that he never got to see the fireplace.  Why not just send him an email with a photo attached you reason.  Seems like a sensible thing to do.

And then you find yourself in the driveway staring up at a beautiful moon sitting low in the sky, beside a bright planet off to the north.  And you realize that the moon is not blurry  because of sleep in your eyes but because you are staring through a sheen of tears.  There’s no email in heaven.  Is there.

As you and the dog wander you contemplate the long road of life and how you don’t know what’s over the next hill.  You are lost in thought, memories.

Then just overhead a cardinal begins his morning song and you can just see him through the soft morning light.  He flies right over your head, still singing and you figure it’s Dad cheering you up.  It works as you realize you’re not in the dark place.  This place, this morning, is more  a gentle blue place with shadows around the edges.  Soft, not scary.

And then your dog stares up at you with big eyes, wondering, and grins because you do and the two of you hustle back to the house for breakfast.

Funny how it happens.