Finding Rainbows: August 2012

Sunday was spent out at our old house... the Covalt Ranch. We walked around our almost empty house and felt a million feelings at once. Happiness thinking of all the wonderful times we had in this house. The feeling of being 'home' and feeling close to my dad.
And sadness. Overwhelming sadness. I walked around the house my dad built, knowing we would never be gathering as a family again in this home that my dad dreamed, and turned into a reality. Sadness, that my dad was gone and no longer with us. An ever present reminder that our home was broken. Sadness as memories came flooding back of the first time my parents moved into this house after it was completed and I got to come home to the house my dad built with his own two hands. Holiday parties- where the house was filled with the loud and boisterous voices of all the Covalt's as well as my Aunt Judy and cousin Heather whose voices and stories fit right in with us Covalt's :)
I remember my dad's friends always stopping by on their way out or back into town. I remember how many times Peter and JJ came over to shoot guns or their bows and talk hunting.
I remember the look on my dad's face as he stared out the picture window in their bedroom and the sun would rise as he soaked in the beauty and thanked God every morning that he got to wake up to such a sight. This house was my dad's dream... he chased it and made it happen .My eyes well with tears just remembering the look in his eyes as he looked through not just this bedroom window, but the window from his spot at the breakfast nook... the one in his office and trophy room where he would sit for hours 'billing' or 'getting work done', but the outdoors would always steal his attention; making work that could be done in an hour, take all day. It's heartbreaking to leave this house. To think of another family moving into this home and calling it theirs. It will never be theirs. It is ours. It is his. Forever.

While out at the property we also took advantage of all of us being together and we scattered some of my dad's ashes. We each took a turn scattering some of his ashes. It was hard thinking of my dad physically being there with us, and now, suddenly we were scattering some of his ashes. We chose to do it in the area the deer usually gathered. We spent many evenings waiting and watching for the deer. It seemed fitting to do it there.
Children have such an innocence about their approach to life and the way they perceive it. Somewhere along the way of life and growing up I feel like we lose our pure and simple way of looking at life and life's struggles. Sometimes things don't need to be analyzed or figured out. They don't need to be thought of or mulled over. They don't need to be repressed or ignored. Sometimes the most honest answer is right there in front of you and with just a few words... it can say it all. While we were scattering the ashes, Harlow, who had been such a quiet, patient baby while we were there, broke the silence and started to fuss and cry. No one was talking or making noise but Harlow. A few moments later my 5 year old nephew Jacob said something so raw and profoundly true. He said, "Harlow's crying because Grandpa Rocco was suppose to be her Grandpa." He was. He should be here. He was suppose to be here to be her grandpa. Those words state the honest truth.