flowers on the pond

This past Monday, the 14^th, marked the 15^th anniversary of my Dad’s death.    He died at a place he loved, his farm of around 60 acres.  It was rather wooded, and home to many deer.  It had some springs, a few streams, a small waterfall, and a nice size pond fed by a large spring.

The stream exiting the pond, and the pond itself was plagued with bunches of beastly, bothersome, beavers.  (Say that three times fast.)  He busted up no telling how many beaver dams.  Dad loved nature, woods, rocks, streams, creeks, the mountains, growing gardens, growing plants, and a lot of other stuff.  I share his love of each of these.

Now, back to his earthly death.  He was found there, the pond.  It was definitely a shock, and hard to deal with in the tender days and weeks and months that came.  But it’s a great comfort knowing he is living forever in the presence of God Almighty. 

When the flowers at the cemetery turned brown, me, my sister, and my brother loaded then into the back of Dad’s truck.  We headed to the farm and took the path to the pond.  We removed the flowers from the wires and styrofoam.  We tossed them into the pond one by one.  They floated to our right, gently circled the pond, and headed into the stream.  It was awesome.  I can’t explain that feeling.  But, it was awesome.