I cried on a roller coaster

I cried on a roller coaster.

I know my FB and IG feeds show smiling faces of our trip to King’s Island, and there are bright rays of joy for sure, but grief resides in my heart, and my dad is gone for now, and I miss him always.

Pop passed away in May. He loved roller coasters. He taught me that you had to lean into the turns and not fight against them. He taught me to yell, “Geronimo!” on the way down the big hills. He’d laugh and hoot and raise his hands.

In fact, twenty years ago, I was standing at the back of the church, my arm in his, dressed in white and holding a bouquet. Lee was at the altar, and we were surrounded by family and friends. Just before I walked down the aisle to become a wife, Pop whispered, “Geronimo!”

Mystic Timbers is a pretty new wooden roller coaster at King’s Island. I latched in, and as we whooshed along, the sound of the wooden cart and the ups and downs and turns reminded me of Pop. I whispered “Geronimo” on the hill and the tears ran, flowing back on my face with the speed of the wind. They were dry by the time we reached the end.

I think that’s how life is going to be. Because he was in every part of it, he’ll always be with me in my thoughts and memories.

I’ve never known grief like this. The weight, the tears, the pain. And though the cloud is lifting, it’s amazing how quickly the storms of sadness can roll in.

God is with me.

And Pop is with God.

I’ll see him soon.

And in the waiting, I’ll learn to lean into the turns of life, just as he taught me, and in the ups and downs, I’ll raise my arms and yell, “Geronimo!”

Maranatha