daddy-o

I found this quote a few months after my Dad died:

"We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future. It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance."
-Marcel Proust

It speaks the truth.

The morning of January 8th I didn't know that that evening would be the last time I would see him in this lifetime.

I didn't know that I should have brought him a burger and shake from Dick's. That would have been a waaaaay better last meal than crappy hospital meatloaf.

I didn't know that my sister Lael would find me crumpled on the laundry room floor, crying uncontrollably, unable to breathe, clutching the phone where my husband just told me my Dad had died. She had to take the phone from me to hear it for herself.

I didn't know that a person could hurt that much. The pain is indescribable.

There were a lot of things of I didn't know.

But there are a lot of things I know now.

I know that hindsight is 20/20, and when you look back at the events leading up to that sweet hour of death, it all makes sense. The last six months of his life really seem as if there was a divine hand in it all, directing the traffic of so many lives, leading to his final hour here on Earth.

From things like conversations he had, or things he said in prayers, to Aaron and I being there at my parents house that weekend or Dave being home from Iraq. They all hold a place in his grand finale exit from this life.

I know it is because of the prayers offered up by others that I made it through that time in my life. I know this because I physically felt them. I physically felt the love and concern that people offered up on our behalf through their prayers to our Heavenly Father.

My favorite thing I know is that I will see my Dad again. I will see him laugh and I can hardly wait for that moment to happen.

But even knowing that, I still wish everyday that he were here. I want so badly to call and ask him what's going on, and tell him how crazy his grandkids are, or to let him know how my runs have been going, or to find out about the rest of the family, or to tell him it's been way too long since we've gone out to Ozette...

I know I love him more now. And I know I will love him even more tomorrow.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.



You always had a great smile.