A year ago today something happened that I didn’t expect to happen for many, many years.
My dad, my daddy, my father, my mentor, my teacher, my encourager, my prayer warrior, my living concordance, my cheerleader, my friend
went home.
He left.
God took him home.
He died.
It was so sudden. No one saw it coming.
He was at church that morning teaching, praising away.
He went hunting.
He decided to go home because he wasn’t feeling well.
And then he fell asleep.
Right on his doorstep.
Keys out to open the door.
Asleep.
Today is strange. I can’t believe it’s been an entire year since he left.
No.
Really.
I can’t believe it.
I still expect him to call to check up on how I’m doing.
I still expect to get his random e-mails about recent or upcoming celestial events, or the latest research about….whatever.
But his ashes are sitting on my dresser in a film canister, next to my jewelry box.
He’s not here anymore.
Will it ever sink it?
Sometimes I don’t even think I’ve really mourned.
It’s just another movie scene that I’m watching from the outside, yet somehow participating in as well.
So. Confusing.
I miss him.
I want to go home too.
Darn it. Gotta wait. He’s got me here for a reason.
Darn it.
Nothing more significant to say.
Blessings!
Hannah
it is hard stuff! Thanks for writing about it —
i miss him oohhh so very much to mom i just wish i could go see him one last time and i cant stop thinking about him. i love and miss you lots
I feel your pain – my dad died suddenly at 85, a month after we had celebrated his birthday. I think I’m still in denial. I always feel him with me, so I’m lucky, but to never see that sweet face again is killing me. I miss him.