Everything was beginning to make sense. For almost two weeks I hadn’t felt good. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, but I knew something was different. I had headaches, dizziness, and sadness.
Two days before my dad died I had told a friend that something felt different. She prayed with me and comforted me, but I had the feeling in my heart that something just wasn’t right. I had no idea two days later I would have my answer.
My mother’s side of the family is what you would call extremely dysfunctional. We’ve had our ups and downs, but when a tragedy happens on that side of the family we all come together. My family seemed to show up in groups to be there for me. God once again provided. They weren’t even related to my dad, but yet they were there to comfort me. I truly felt loved.
I sifted through the few pictures of my dad that I had. There were so many years we didn’t have a relationship. I wonder what photographs we could have had of those memories. God kindly reminded me that didn’t matter. What memories I did have I could hold onto.
My pastor called to ask questions about how I wanted the service to go. I told him that there would be many lost people in the room. I hoped somehow he could reach them. He prayed with me and once again God showed up at the perfect time for comfort.
12:30 am
My mom lie by my side as I tried to drift off to sleep. There were so many things running through my mind.
“Is he really dead?”
My mom prolonged her answer, and then confirmed the truth with a headshake. It wasn’t real to me. I wonder when it will be.
I drifted off to sleep knowing that tomorrow would be one of the hardest days of my life.
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