One of the very few tasks I completed myself in preparing for Phil's funeral was personalizing the "guest book." I clearly remember someone asking me what kind of book I would like to provide for the people who attended the funeral to sign. Suddenly visions of a wedding guest book popped up in my mind and I began to cry as I realized the huge difference between the book we had at our wedding and the one I was being asked to provide at his funeral. Ugh.
On one hand I knew that I would want to give the amazing people who loved Phil a place to record their name, a way to say they stood up in memory of him and all the ways he touched their lives, and I thought I would like to have a safe place for the loving words of our friends and family to be stored, and cherished. On the other hand the very idea of signing in at his funeral made me sick to my stomach. So I compromised with myself, and made his funeral guest book into a scrapbook of sorts.
Each page holds a photo of Phil...being Phil. Under each snapshot is a caption, written by me two days after he died, that describes where he was when captured by the camera and how the photo reflected his big personality. Now this book holds page after page of joyful memories punctuated by the pain of loss evident in the tear smeared ink. I think the blurry words are as precious to me now as the timeless images.
When I sat down to write this post I planned to talk about a whole different topic. But those thoughts will have to wait for next week because when I opened the scrapbook otherwise known as the funeral guest book to scan a new photo to add to my blog, I rediscovered the treasure trove of memories held in my little blue book and wanted to tell you that even in all my current happiness, missing Phil still hurts.