Soap Box

I recently wrote a heartfelt Soapbox Jr. called “Trilogy of Grief” delving into the unexpected lessons I gleaned from reluctantly attending a grief group with my mom back in 2021.

The crux of it was that the third anniversary of dad’s “changing addresses” was almost upon us, and I shared a few things about grief I’ve picked up in the last couple of years.

Now the day is upon us.

Dad officially went home the morning of July 6, 2020, three years ago today.

There has been a slight sense of dread leading up to this day, but nothing overwhelming. Curiously, I experienced an unusual headache last night and a persistent fatigue this morning, despite a decent night's rest.

I met Mom at her house and we ventured to the cemetery accompanied by our friend Michele Capps. Her loss was equally profound—a month prior to our own, she bid farewell to her husband, Jimmy Capps, a celebrated guitarist and a cherished member of the Grand Ole Opry band.

In solemn reverence, we paid our respects at the graveside. Mom had her moments of emotion, and I'm glad I was there to support her.

During our visit, we couldn't help but notice a few matters that needed the attention of the cemetery management. I gently brushed away the grass clippings that had veiled my dad's marker, a small gesture to honor his memory.

Leaving the cemetery, we had at a nearby Mexican restaurant. My mom, understandably, experienced moments of vulnerability throughout our meal. 

After all, when you've spent fifty-five years with someone, an unfathomable void resides within your heart.

That, my friends, is grief.

Grief encapsulates the enduring love for a departed soul, forcing the heart and soul to recalibrate in the absence of that beloved presence.

Let me share another nugget of wisdom gleaned from my begrudging attendance at the grief group: grief is the price we pay for love.

If we do not grieve, we did not truly love.

However, grief manifests differently for each individual. Some weep ceaselessly, while others seldom shed a tear. Some internalize their pain, while others find solace in incessant conversations about their loss. It is not a one-size-fits-all experience.

Regrettably, grief is an inevitable companion on our life's journey. Whether it be the passing of parents, grandparents, spouses, or our dearest friends, it will eventually touch us all.

Dad's departure has left an immense void in our lives, and we continue to navigate its treacherous depths as best we can.

Day by day, we persist, drawing strength from the unwavering belief that we will be reunited. And when that glorious day arrives, there shall be an extraordinary celebration like no other.

We’ve been hard at work on several projects which I hope to be able to talk about in the next month or so.

Exciting times lie ahead for CDB fans, even though Dad cannot be physically present to witness what we have in store. Rest assured, he shall be watching from the most extraordinary vantage point imaginable.

I miss you, Dad. I’m always keeping your legacy alive and doing my best to make the day count.

Love, 

Little Charlie

What do you think?

Let’s all make the day count!

Pray for our troops, our police, the Peace of Jerusalem and our nation.

God Bless America!

#SonyReleaseHonkyTonkAve

#BenghaziAintGoingAway #End22

—  Charlie Daniels, Jr.

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