We are who we love

We've lived in the house that my dad built for a year now and it has been just over 4 since he passed. Every day that I come "home" I can't help but think of him and miss him. A friend of mine told me once that it never gets easier, just different. There is a difference... now I can think about him, all the memories we've created and smile. I see him every where: in the perimeter fence that he and Kevin spent long, grueling hours putting up, the wild ducks that fly from his pond in the spring, the occasional glimpse of "his mountain" that I get from the kitchen window in the winter and especially the grapes growing down by the gate. In the year plus that my dad was sick, and in the time since, watching that grapevine grow has not failed to tug at my heart. I would often stop on my way in the gate for a visit and try to get them to grow where they were suppose to.
Yesterday, I climbed a tall ladder and finally wound those vines around the cables that my dad had years ago put in place for them to climb on. There was nothing magical about it and it only took a few moments, but in doing so, I did something my dad would have done, had he still been here. There are so many things that he would have done that I and my family are now doing. All are gentle, daily reminders of him. Maybe that's why I love this place.
As I stood in thoughtful contemplation, I wondered if that grape will ever make it over the cross bar, to the other side. I wondered if I had finally made it to the other side of my grief. Kevin has said, on occasion, that he would have done that crossbar differently...he would have used another railroad tie and match the supports. I never did get to ask my dad why he didn't... why he used the log that is still in place. Indeed, Kevin and I frequently look at each other and say, "Why on earth did he do that?" So many unanswered questions. Still, the only thing missing is a sign hanging from that crossbar. I've long been of the opinion that "The Funny Farm" would be a fitting name for this place. Here, where my folks and my brothers with all their crazy antics and all of our families have congregated since becoming adults. I have thought more than once of buying my folks such a sign to hang. After all, this has occasionally been a farm and always a place I would come to laugh.