Ashes in the Light

Before we return to Georgia and continue our honeymoon series, I wanted to take a brief pause for something a little closer to home.

Father’s Day.

The next travel entry will take us back to vineyards, countryside views, and the slower pace of Kakheti. But for today, I thought I’d share a small moment from a Father’s Day lunch with family.

This Father’s Day, we brought my father-in-law out for lunch.

My mum joined us too, making it a small family gathering on a quiet afternoon.

The restaurant wasn’t new to us. In fact, I had visited it previously and enjoyed the food so much that I thought it would be nice to bring my father-in-law there to try it for himself.

One thing I particularly liked about the restaurant was how the soup was served.

Instead of arriving in individual bowls and cooling quickly, it came in a pot, allowing everyone to help themselves and enjoy it at their own pace.

A simple yet thoughtful detail, perhaps.

But one that meant the soup stayed warm throughout the meal.

And somehow, that felt fitting.

There is something comforting about warm soup shared around a table. The kind of meal that encourages people to slow down, take another serving, and linger a little longer.

As we ate and chatted, I found myself thinking about Father’s Day.

Not in a sad way.

At least, not entirely.

Just in the quiet way that happens every year now.

Because no matter how many Father’s Days pass, there is always a part of me that misses my own dad a little more when the day comes around.

I have written before about losing him and how grief has changed over the years.

It no longer arrives in the same overwhelming waves it once did.

But it still shows up in moments like this.

Around a dining table.

During family celebrations.

In the small instinct to want to tell him something, only to remember that I can’t.

Rather than flood this post with grief, I’ve written more about that journey in a separate space of its own here.

Yet alongside that sense of missing is another feeling.

Gratitude.

Gratitude for the family still around the table.

Gratitude for the opportunity to celebrate my father-in-law.

Gratitude for another afternoon spent sharing a meal together.

Perhaps that’s what Father’s Day has become for me now.

A day that holds both things at once.

The people I miss.

And the people I am fortunate enough to still have.

And somehow, there is room for both.

Thank you, as always, for reading.

And thank you for following along with both the journeys abroad and the quieter moments closer to home.

In the next entry, we’ll return to Georgia and continue our honeymoon series as we leave Tbilisi behind and make our way into Kakheti’s wine country.

Until then, take care of the people around your table.