Carry It On

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Another weekend spent with our hearts in our throats at Fuzzy camp. Uncle Jim's birthday was this past week (the 1st we celebrated without him) and Dad's passing was once more acknowledged.

So, opening Facebook and seeing the above photo sort of made the air catch in my throat.

But I had one thought:

Carry it on.

And sometimes it seems real simple to me. I recall offering my condolences to someone who was saying goodbye to their own father, and the man said:

"I'm gonna' miss him, for sure, but the world would be so crowded if we all lived forever."

Isn't that the truth?

Yet there was a certain resolve that entered behind the grief of seeing Dad and Uncle Jim, together, looking back at me.

I thought of the fact that they took the rock from their Dad - another great in a line of Fuzzy men - and they carried it forward...

...proudly.

And it occurred to me that it is our job to do so now.

Pick up the rock and carry it on.

As I looked at the photo for quite some time yesterday morning my initial despair gave way to a pretty decent sized grin.

"We're all doing, okay," I whispered to Dad.

"It's so different without you...quieter actually...but we're taking care of the rock."

And finally, I thought of my own boys behind me. We attended mass for Dad on Saturday and I said to Jake:

"I miss my Dad. Wouldn't you miss your Dad?"

That's a tough thing to say to a kid, and I was on shaky ground anyway because Jake is quick to the wit.

"Of course," was all he said.

He's getting ready for the rock.

All of my boys are.

I just want to carry it for a lot longer in honor of my Pop.

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