Grief.

Grief surrounds me.

I can feel it thicken on my skin and attach to my heart.

It diggs into my memories and flashes of my father flicker beneath my eyelids.

Grief.

Time heals.

These are the words I say to Brandee and Dawn, both down a father in the month of October. Two similar lives, two men who lived each day for their daughters. They are gone, and I am at a loss for the right words to say.

What do you say?

How do you hold a friend?

What can soothe the ache that burns inside thier soul?

Nothing....just time.

At Dawn's daddies funeral service I just wanted to lay myself over her.

I wanted to protect Dawn. I wanted my shoulders to sop up her tears.

I sat behind her at the service and rubbed her back. I don't know if she felt me. But I was praying the whole time for her. I want time to speed up and her heart to heal.

I wanted to make her laugh and watch her eyes alight.

I wanted to spend more time with her then my work schedule allowed....

Yesterday I walked into Brandee's dads celebration of life. I wore purple in his memory and quickly pinned together a Harley flower to my shirt. One that I made because I am so broke that I figured I would get artsy.

Brandee and Mandy meet me outside. They do this because they know that I am uncomfortable. We go inside and Brandee rushes to the bathroom to "put on her face", And I see her daddys Harley there, in the bar. It sparkles beneath the lights, and the leather handlebar tassels swing to and fro as each person walks around it.

My eyelids tingle and I press my hands to them. They burn and I cannot stop the tears that well up from beneath my lids.

"You okay Beanie?" Mandy asks, a questioning look on her face.

"Yeah. Yes. I am fine." I shake my head and dab away the tears that threaten to fall.
I cannot let them.

How silly of me to cry.

How weak, when I need to be a source of strength.

How dare I cry. What kind of a friend is that?

I shrug and Brandee approaches. She see's my tears and moans "ohh...ooooh....Beanie is crying.." And she wanders off the other way.

My eyes keep catching on the shine of the Harley.

It reminds me of my daddy. 

 I can see him straddle his bike and feel the fear and excitement in my heart as I scramble up behind him.

I can feel the thickness of his waist and feel the flannel of his shirt beneath my cheek as we start to move...as the rumble fills my small body.

I can smell the fumes and old spice in my nose. Feel my fingers grasp the loops in his pants....

Mandy puts a Margarita on the table in front of me. "Drink up Beanie." She says with a smile, and I lay my head on her for a second.

The day moves and my tears dry. By the time I leave I have recieved immunity from my memories.

I look down....

On my hand is drawn a turtle.
One that bears a heart in the center of her shell.
My turtle is a she.
Her name is Angie and just yesterday morning she has ended her fight (And what a fight it was) with Cancer.

She leaves behind a little girl Emma's age. It makes me cry. It makes me sad.

I rub the turtle on my hand as I drive home to Shane and Emma. I spend the day with them and they make me laugh.

They beg me for icecream, and I give in.

Brandee and Mandy bring me food left over from the service. I tell my children that they are eating funeral food tonight.

Mandy farts in the back window, right in Shanes face.

Brandee laughs.

Time will heal.

At Emmas birthday party last week, Spencer hold himself up. He moves along the couch and flashes his dimples at his momma.

Dawn laughs.

Time will heal.

But until then, know that I am here. And I will hold you, and make you laugh. I will dry your tears with my hair and kiss your head.

I love you. And even though every beat of your heart echos an ache. The ache will come less and less. Laughter will accompany your fathers name, and time indeed...will heal your hearts.