My Story: Part 4

My dad went to glory on February 5, 2019; one year and one day from the day he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. While he lived he made clear to us on what he wanted; how he wanted us to communicate with each other and what he wanted done for him after he left this world.

Leading up to his death we would talk about his celebration of life service. These were always interesting conversations, because he’d suggest things that he knew I’d never allow. The conversation usually ended with me walking away telling him it didn’t matter what we did, he wouldn’t be around to see it. We eventually compromised with a church service and a reception at his archery club.  He even checked with his friends to make sure everyone was on board. Let me tell you, his friends took care of every aspect of the reception! Talk about stress relief. 

The Service

At the church service I looked out to the crowd of over 300 guests and reflected on his life.  What a good life he lived. Those of us left behind think it was all too brief but my dad might say it was too long.  He lived his 66 years of life well, he lived for others, and he never complained.  The service was beautiful. Memories were shared. Hugs were given. Many friends and family even joined us at the reception. Then…everyone went home.

Friends this was the hardest part. He occupied so much space in my life, and now there was a large void. People went home and went on with their lives. I went home and stared at an empty room. I kept thinking he’d come out and grab a Dr. Pepper.  But he was gone.  It was weird. 

After my mom died, I likened it to being on a ship anchored just off shore.  I can see everyone doing life, but I was stuck.  I was bitter and mad, that people moved on so quickly. If I moved on too quickly it would make me a bad daughter. So, I stayed away from everyone, it was a dark time. I remembered what that isolation felt like, I remembered how the enemy deceived me. How he showed me to blame others for the pain, to blame God and to question His goodness. 

We Have a Choice

When I woke up the day after my dad’s service, I was weepy. Not full on crying but my eyes couldn’t dry up.  I couldn’t get out of bed to get my kids to school, so I let them have the day off, which is totally out of my character! (I pay private school tuition, they are going!)  My morning was filled with coffee, carbs and Christian authors.  I was feeling stuck, stuck in sadness, stuck in grief. Then I read that I have a choice! I get to choose to be stuck or unstuck in this weepiness. Wait, I get to CHOOSE to stay in this or take a step.

I thought of my dad, and I know what he would say, “Kayla, live your life.  Don’t be sad for me.” So, in that moment, I chose to get up, pull on some clean yoga pants, running shoes, and workout top (Did you think I was going to go work out? HA! That’s just all that would fit, the carbs were taking a toll on my jeans.).  I ran the errand I had been avoiding…the mortuary.

Am I Being Punked?

On the way to the mortuary to pick up my dad’s ashes, I threatened my kids with all things Chick-fil-a, “If you so much as breathe too heavily you will never eat another nugget for the rest of your life!” They were scared! Truthfully so was I. The anxiety ball in my stomach was bouncing around. I kept questioning myself; am I ready to do this? Is this the moment where I will crash, and the floodgates of tears will open? The official led us to the meeting room, I signed papers, showed proof of ID. He left and returned in minutes. I will never forget this moment! As he placed my dad’s ashes on the table, he said, “Mrs. Granillo, I am so sorry for your loss.” I honestly thought I was being “punked.” I burst into laughter, like full belly laughs, and tears in my eyes laughs.  

You see, my dad had warned me, that he chose a really ugly box for his ashes.  I imagined it to be a tacky wooden box, with some ornate carving.  Something like a bald eagle with its wings wrapped around the box.  But no friends…that would have been a dream.  What they placed before me was an amazon knock off, plastic Tupperware container, sealed with packing tape, PACKING TAPE!  I wish I could say I was kidding, but I’m not.  As I left that place with my dad hidden in a grocery bag, because God forbid anyone on Earth actually see me walking out with him in this tacky container, I couldn’t help but smile.  My anxiety turned into joy.  

Two and half weeks after his death, he was still doing things his way, and ensuring that I kept my promises.  He was still taking care of me, encouraging me to move on, to be ok. He knew that there was no way I would keep this tacky container and will honor his wishes and make his final resting place where he wanted.  I like to imagine my dad in the mortuary a year prior. I can see him passing over each urn that cost anything and opting for the “free with crematory” container.  He knew it was hideous. I can see him chuckling at the thought of me picking him up. Good one dad! 

When I got home, I placed my mom and dad next to each other and once gain began laughing uncontrollably. My dad’s “urn” was sealed with tape, hardly durable. My mom’s urn is gorgeous and has beautiful engravings of butterflies. I just can’t even! 

All the Butterflies

Another crazy part is that actual butterflies began showing up in our area at that exact time. “The Painted Ladies” are migrating through our sweet town of Redlands.  Hundreds of thousands of butterflies were fluttering through our city. I kept thinking of my mom and her urn each time I saw them. I called my brother and asked if he had seen them. He thought I was crazy.  My Izzy girl and my brother ran around my front yard trying to catch these butterflies with their hands and a large fishing net. It was ridiculous! It was just us three, and we laughed until we cried. I felt like these butterflies were in that exact spot to encourage my heart in that exact moment and to solidify in my mind that we are going to be more than just fine! And even more, that we are going to thrive.

He’s Got This

I know this all may sound crazy to you all, but these moments are just so dear to me. I felt like the Holy Spirit was showing me, if I let Him, Jesus will comfort me and take care of me.  That I am not alone…ever…that before time began our Heavenly Father knew that all of this would happen.  And most of all…HE’S GOT THIS! 

Isn’t that amazing? He has this under control. I don’t need to be put together. I don’t need to grieve the way others expect me to. I don’t need to be anyone other than who the Lord has called me to be.  He will sustain me through all of this.