Dad went to the bigly coyote hunt in the sky on December 4, 2007. We laid him deep in his Delta dirt four days later, on December 8. And a week after that, on the evening of December 15, a bunch of our family donned our pajamas for a ride on the Polar Express, in Heber. My oldest sister, Betty (Mercedes, to me), and her eternal hubby, Kent, had planned the family Polar Express ride long before Dad’s death. It was to be a humongous family celebration of their 40th wedding anniversary. And so it was. Our grieving family was very much in need of something to celebrate. Train Bow Tie o’ the Day honors that healing outing.
This is one of the dearest photos I snapped on our Polar Express adventure. In the photo, Betty is clearly listening to Mom’s deep sorrow about Dad’s passing. Mom was now alone in a way not even a large, loud family could completely fill. Betty comforted Mom. And I have no doubt Mom comforted Betty. Grief is an awkward, homely thing. But it provides an opportunity for us to create beautiful responses to those who ache. In this way, sorrow can be transformed into beauty. I see such beauty here.