Today would have been our daughter, Hannah Johnson Rinehart‘s thirty third birthday. What a difference a year makes. A year ago we surprised her with a birthday dinner at Red Lobster. They even brought out a live lobster to the table (at her husband, Floyd Mark Rinehart’s request) to see what she would do. To see her jump when the little red creature moved was worth the trip. Today, we went as a family and visited her grave. Even though we know she is in heaven and that the real Hannah is not there, it is still a hard thing to do. A few new flowers and some favorite photos to share together just don’t seem to make up for what is gone. It never will. As time passes we seem to be coping better. I don’t know if it is the distance in time or the slow subtle acceptance of the new normal. Regardless, the hole she left was deep and wide. Few days pass in which we are not surprised by an image or event in which her memory does not shock us into a sudden reality. I am pleased to say that today went well. Having four grandkids tugging at your sleeve is a great way to keep your mind on the future. In the past twelve months I have learned many things that I thought I already knew. That the cycle of life continues. That God in his wisdom is the one who knows what is best. Even in the hard things. Or maybe especially in those things that matter. Life has a way of throwing you curves. I would never have imagined the hole she would leave. Because of the cancer, she lived at home for many years more than if she had simply grown up, gone to school and gotten married. Her Mom, Teresa Cunningham Johnson, was her primary care giver throughout the seven years of treatments. Even afterwards we were never far from her and whatever was going on in her life. I think sometimes we were able to be young again by being so close. Ironically, we are grateful now for the time and friendship we were able to experience as a result of her disease. A few days ago I had a dream that I saw Hannah. She was sitting on a sunlit stone veranda behind a beautiful Italian looking townhome talking as she loved to do with a few of her friends. She was sitting partly reclined in a comfortable chair. As she spoke, she gestured with her hands and sat up in her chair as if to make her point. She was smiling that huge smile and laughing as she loved to do. It seemed so real that I almost thought I was there. I tried to speak and when I did I woke up. Instead of being upset, I had an incredible sense of peace and wellbeing. My daughter was at peace, she was happy, and she was where she wanted to be. It was almost as if for a few seconds the curtain had been drawn back and I could tell that she is enjoying her new life. Sometimes our greatest blessings are not in what we have and can hold. They are in those places and moments of deepest needs and hope. I frequently say I wish all this had never happened. But God in His wisdom truly does know what is best. Someday we will be able see and understand. Until then we must grow in faith and approach the future in the calm assurance that “all is well with, with my soul”. Love to All (Hannah’s Dad)
Posted on: Mon, 24 Jun 2013 00:44:41 +0000
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