Sunday, November 23, 2008
Daddy, I miss you more than words can say. Today at Church I cried all through praise and worship. I miss the sound of your trumpet. Now there are just empty chairs there, like you never existed. I kept crying when Pastor Danny started preaching. Out of the corner of my eye I kept seeing you coming to sit down beside us. Sometimes I could swear you are there. I finally said I wanted to go home. So we left, Mamaw and all. Now I'm sitting in my room on the floor. My bed is gone and the furniture is piled in the middle of the room. I want you to know that I was watching more closely than you may have thought when you did the things that Daddys do. I took down my curtains and the brackets holding my speakers on the wall. I took down the smoke alarm. I used the very screwdriver you used to put most of that up. I put all the screws and brackets in a sandwich bag so they wouldn't get lost. I did this all from 10:30 to 11:30 at night. That was our time. Mom is asleep and I'm alone. Tonight I wanted to go get you from the living room and say "Daddy can you take these lights down and my speakers, oh and the curtains too". When I talked you into doing something else I wanted to hear you say "you don't play fair", like the speech you gave at the Father Daughter Banquet for Missionettes a couple years ago. "Daughters Don't Play Fair". It took you a while to get through that one. You even had me crying by the end. I want to ask you how to paint my room. I know that these chores only require common sense, but right now I just want you here. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind. Twice this week I've pulled in the driveway and sat and stared at your Jeep and yelled at God "why did you take my Daddy". I keep telling him I don't understand. You're supposed to be here. You were never supposed to get old, but you weren't supposed to die now. I know I sound like a little kid, but I don't know what to do. I don't want Thanksgiving to come. I'm angry because everyone else is going to enjoy the holidays. Sometimes I'm angry with all the girls who still have their fathers. Sometimes I'm happy for them. I miss you Daddy. I need you here to tell me everything is going to be okay, that God is always on time. I need you here to pray for me. When I'm upset like this I feel the farthest from you, which only makes this worse. I know you don't see me right now because that would upset you and there are no tears in heaven. Daddy, I promise I still love and believe in God with all my heart. I just don't understand right now.
Monday, November 3, 2008
My dad died. Life just became a whole different ball game. There are a lot of firsts coming up. Both big and little hurt just the same. For instance, Lowes Home Improvement can be a very painful place for the family of a loyal customer and true blue gadget man. If there was a gadget for it my dad had it. Then there are the big ones: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, and my 20th birthday. In March, my mom will celebrate her 35th wedding anniversary...alone. So where does that leave me? I know that God's fingerprints are all over my life and even my dad's death. It doesn't always feel like God made the right call there, but I know he did even if I don't know why. There is a lot of grieving left to be done. It's not like you can dehydrate yourself completely once or twice and then be done with it. Healing takes time. God's time. I know that there are summer classes in my future. I still want to graduate from Belmont (2011 would be great). The question is when and how will I return. God has my future in his hand. He allowed me to have my freshman year at Belmont to make all the amazing friendships that have held me up through all of this. I can do this. My mom can do this. God did this and I don't have to know why.