Two years ago. August 3 - the last day I talked to my Dad face to face. The last hug from him on the sidewalk of the airport was the usual with the words "I love you" exchanged. Those words weren't just small talk. I meant them. He meant them. His life backed up those words since I was born.
When I got sick and found out my family who I'd just been with all had Covid, my Dad proceeded to tell me over the phone what I needed to do, and he relayed that to my family here. By August 9th, I had received a package from him and my Mom that shouted to my weary body and lonely heart, "We care about you, and we're sending you some comfort and vitamins."
The next day, my Dad left his earthly house for the last time. This was after he had cared for my Mom early that morning in her sickness. I wish I could've been there to help them both in those moments, but my sovereign Lord did not have me there.
Up until his dying breaths, he loved my mom and all of us. He lived his life to love. When our whole family gathered to celebrate my parents' 50th wedding anniversary, he relayed to us all that what matters in life is relationships- with God and family. If those are right, relationships with others will naturally occur.
This week holds memories of the memorial of God's love and grace that my Dad left us. I hope I can write about it every year.
I drove home from church tonight with my son listening to songs about Heaven. The memories of riding down country roads with my Dad flooded my mind. Memories are interesting - they come at unexpected moments. Love is set - it's always there.
While my heart grieves not having my Dad here on earth, my heart is relieved that He is with the Lord, and he's done with this old world. I remember him singing "Goodbye World, Goodbye!" when I was growing up. He knew he was just passing through, and he left his heart-print in our lives... until we pass through the gates of Home. It won't be long now.