Too Young

Yesterday I realized that my sister is too young to have to speak at her dad's funeral. She just turned 30 in September. That should have been something she was more prepared to do; later. Something that made more sense because he was "older" and "lived a long life". She should have had a lot more gray hair and maybe some kids by her side while she sat in that first row. There should have been more memories. He should have been older and had more time to make right. 56 is too young for her father to die and 30 is too young to go through that.

We don't get as much time as we think we do. Or as much time as we want. It's hard to imagine that It could be over. Life could be finished just when you think you're getting started. Life could be over before you've had enough time. Are we making good use of the time we have? Am I?

My sister said good-bye to her father yesterday. I watched her cry from a near by pew. I'd never met her father before, but I was there to hug her if she needed it. I'd only heard stories of the people who sat around her and somehow they didn't seem real to me. The only thing that was real was that my sister, albeit step-sister by technicality, was going through something she shouldn't have had to.

I sat next to my dad wondering what will happen when it's my turn to cry on that bench. Will it be too soon or will I have "enough" time? What about when it's me in the box surrounded by flowers? How will I have spent my time? I've got some things still left to do. I'm sure he did too.

R.I.P. J-Mac. I hope you have peace. We'll take care of her. Don't worry.