Remembering

Remembering my dad today. It was two years ago that God freed him from his suffering and took him home.

I wish death wasn't so hard. I wish God's plan was that entire families and their friends could all go at the same time so it wouldn't hurt so much. That's the hard part about death - missing them.

I miss my dad's voice. His laugh and his hugs. I miss him picking on me. Teaching me things. Fixing stuff. Helping me make things and be creative. I wish he could come back and go waterskiing with me. And make me his famous buscuits and gravy.

I wish the kids could run up and give their Papa a hug again. They remember him and still talk about him. Michelle still draws pictures of him in heaven, or of his butterfly. Jacob was just mentioning him the other day. Dominic doesn't have any idea. When I was crying this morning he just looked at me and my tears and kept saying, "Mommy?" Sorry love, there's no way to explain it.

Sometimes I wish he could just come back for a day and we could all talk. I've wanted to tell him how hard it was to see him suffer, to see him in the hospital, to see him dying. As if he doesn't know that, but I want to tell him. I want to ask him what it was like for him. Did he know he was dying? What was that like?

I want to ask him what Heaven is like.

But even in his final months he didn't talk about that stuff. He only talked about what he was thankful for. About how blessed his life was and how much he loved all of us. Maybe that was his way of saying goodbye without having to say it.

I am beyond blessed to have had him for a dad. As I "get older" I really realize the blessing of a good dad. Not everyone gets a good one, not everyone gets a dad at all. But for some reason I did, and he was awesome. Yes, for all the things he could do, for all his talents, for his provision of his family...but mostly for his love. He loved his family like crazy and we all knew it, which is really what matters to a kid. And we loved him, and love him still.