When a real tornado seems unremarkable

There is a piece of this year I have struggled to document and hesitant to write about. I didn't want to betray the family intimacy. I wasn't ready to really process it. Yet, I feel somewhat ready now and feel this year would be remiss if I didn't.

Just 5 days before this picture was taken, we'd learned that Mike's dad, Grandpa Schulte, had lung cancer. After learning that, we sat outside the VA Hospital debating if we should meet Rose or delay adoption. Yet, Grandpa insisted we proceed, so we did. We were very happy when this moment arrived. Grandpa was wise.

Seven days before this picture was taken, we learned Grandpa's cancer was terminal and seven days after this photo, Rose moved in for good.

Then, it seems, time flew as we became engrossed in learning to parent Rose and coping with the emotions she brought with her. It almost became easy to ignore our fears and sadness about Grandpa. Almost. The school suspension helped. So did the formal adoption on July 19th.

Yet, of course the cancer didn't go away despite all the other things going on in our lives or how much we wished, prayed and hoped it would. So we tried to ensure Grandpa and Rose had as much time together as possible.This was their first meeting.

The tornado of May was pretty unremarkable in comparison with the emotional tornado we were swept into, but it provided a nice distraction, once again, as did our trip to South Dakota, the start of 5th grade, and Rose's baptism.We purposely held the baptism in the Schulte family church.

Grandpa was able to attend the baptism, but he was very weak at the end of August and had to get home to rest before we could get a picture with him. He told us in September he wished he could have been more involved. Grandpa was proud of his new granddaughter, and he had always been a man of faith.

Grandpa's wisdom encouraging us to push on was more helpful than he could have known. One night, in late September we wrapped up dinner with Grandma and Grandpa. Rose and I hugged our goodbyes as Mike stood by the door in typical, "I don't hug" fashion when Rose said, "Dad, how come you don't hug your dad." Mike responded about men not hugging and Grandpa said, "Come on." So Mike when and hugged his dad.

I looked at Rose and marveled at her ability to create a hug between them and felt certain without her, it probably wouldn't have happened. I know I wouldn't have said anything even if I felt I should.

The third week of October Grandpa lost his fight with cancer. Two days before his passing, the whole family gathered for October birthdays. I didn't take pictures of either event. Needless to say, despite the bright spot Rose brought to our lives this year, this loss is a very dark cloud we continue to live with: the loss of a wonderful father, father-in-law, grandfather and friend.

A cloud even darker than the one that plopped a tree on our house.