Precious Hours, Minutes, and Moments

I haven't posted any this Summer, but that does not mean things have not been happening. Actually, a great deal has happened these past few months. A great deal has happened this October. Some good, some bad,  and some...well... some that reminds us just how precious hours, minutes, and moments can be. Fall is a time of transition. It is a time of harvest, where bounty is brought in to be enjoyed and shared. It is also a time of loss. Fall is a glorious last hurrah for things that were once vibrant and alive, such as when trees shed their leaves with a final bright burst of color.

My family has suffered such a brilliant loss this October with the passing of my father-in-law, Roger Sweeney. He was a vibrant man who enjoyed life to the fullest, and I looked forward to having a house near him and seeing his  smile at my dinner table on a regular basis. But now, no matter how many places are set at the table, no matter how many chairs surround it, there will always be one place extra...no...missing. I wanted to take a moment and thank him for all he did for us. Just not on our house, but in our lives. 

He helped us with the flooring in the utility room. We had to build a proper access to the pipes underneath.  We had to figure out how to tile the flooring, including the hatch. 

Roger was integral in fixing our wood floors, and helped my husband and brother-in-law with weaving the wood to avoid creating a discernible line between the old and new flooring. 

Roger also helped construct the famous "porch in an afternoon" challenge laid out by my brother in law.

I cannot put in a few pictures all that he did for us. I look back, as we all do, and cherish those hours, minutes, and moments we shared. He was a kind man, and it warms my heart to know he was thinking about us and was investing his time in the house and supporting what we are attempting to do. I have to be honest, it took a lot for me to return to my blog, but I think he would want me to keep moving along. Although he's gone, he's never really gone. His legacy is present in my husband, my children, and my home. He is never far from our thoughts, and  every time I walk around my house or step on my back porch, I'll think of him and I'll smile.