"It is such a beautiful day again today", I thought as I drove past the familiar buildings. I was on my way home after running a few errands and I was tired, but better yet would be that the kids are tired, I thought. I checked my rear view mirror. "Yes! One down one to go."
I made a left turn and I heard it, the familiar, distinctive sound. Instantly sadness washed over me like 100 gallons of water and I felt like I couldn't breathe, I was drowning. I glanced to my left, and I saw the bag pipers. This time they were at someone else's funeral, someone else was dead on this beautiful day and they were melodically sending that person away forever.
The memories flood back: funerals, black, crying, scared, loud music, dark glasses, the bitter cold and how I was grateful it made me numb inside and out, beautiful days. Sadness.
It felt like I passed the funeral in slow motion, not like I was going 30 miles per hour. That is how life has felt since my Dad died, in slow motion, but in reality, flying by. I guess it is the irony of it all.
I felt the wind sting my eyes, all the while not realizing I was crying.
I pulled into the driveway and parked my car. I put my head against the seat and took off my sunglasses. I looked into the rearview mirror to see two sleeping kids. Peaceful and innocently sweet. I exhaled realizing that I had done it. That through it all, in slow motion, in sadness, and through tears, I still mamanged to find my way home.