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The Day I'll Never Forget

The day I'll never forget. August 17, 2021.

Recovering from the lingering effects of Covid, lying on my bed, the call came. Tears. Numbness. Unbelief. Expectation of the miracle I wanted to happen (up until the last moment)...

• My Dad - 10 hours away - who had called me and my family members with helps and measures to get me well ...

• My Dad - who with mom sent me a care package (the comment was made - "he must really love you") {Yes. He loved me. He loved you if you knew him.}

• My Dad - probably sicker than I at the moment was more concerned for his several family members hospitalized and me miles and miles away.

• My Dad - who understood the protocol - who  prepared before any of us - who stood by his beliefs - cared for others until the last moment of earthly cognizance. That was this day. 8.17.21

With tears and a foggy mind, suggestions were tossed around at my house with volunteers to drive me there as I had not even resumed normal activities yet. Considering everyone's schedule, one of my sons drove me there - all through the night.

We arrived to a very quiet and eery house the next morning. Weakness held everyone tight, and grief thickened the air. I could hardly breathe. Never had I entered my parents' house with this feeling. My Dad would usually come out and greet us and give hugs, and then we'd find Mom in the kitchen cooking for us.

Tonight, a year later, I found myself traveling from my parents' house to my house with my Mom. The same 10 hour trip. Opposite direction.

This past week, I was blessed to spend a few ordinary moments with several family members. Last year, our moments together were literally holding each other up. This year, we are carrying on with a deeper awareness of God's goodness while living through firsts and anniversaries of great loss. I'm so thankful for these people God made my family.

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