When I walk into those rooms, I know that there is someone, or maybe many someones, who are dealing with perhaps the toughest times of their entire life in those moments. This is where I pray a little more, I ask for the right words, along with extra love and compassion.
16 weeks have passed. The days come, and they go. The hours are filled with the monotony of routine, and the tasks that seem to work their way into every open time slot. There is…
I’m here in the yard, at the house I grew up in. I mowed the lawn as I usually do. But I’m missing my Dad. He’d be sitting right here, outside in the warm air.…
In recent weeks, Dad had talked with my Mom about how he could not wait to take (I would drive them) Mom back to Canada again this year. Then, on April 14, 2016, God intervened, and took Dad to his eternal home.
Dad, can we gather round the table one more time and just let loose?
Oh, we’d laugh til tears, you, my siblings, Mom, this boy you called moose.
I look at the hoop and wonder if I’ll ever see that arch ever again.
Dad, you were one the best lefty shooters there has ever been.
You weren’t well, but I never thought this day would come so soon.
Dimly, I thought that maybe when the day came, I’d be somehow immune.
Dad’s presence was felt, his impact impossible to miss. I don’t think he was looking down from heaven at us, because I am hoping he had better things to do, like lose himself in his mother’s waiting arms, or to look his Dad in the eye and hear the words, “Well done son”. Maybe he was off creating comedy from nothing with his twin sister June. Perhaps he was walking the streets of gold and getting to know his brother Roger, who passed away as a baby, before any of the other siblings.
I am thankful for my brothers and sister. They were wonderful to grow up with and we were a happy family. Now they’ve grown and they are just as wonderful as adults as they were…