missing

there are some days in our lives we never forget.

some are good, like the birth of each of my children.  i remember each moment of labor and delivery, and each moment getting to know them those first few days.

i remember walking down the aisle with my dad.  seeing the look on my soon to be husband's face when the doors opened is a look i will never forget.  i don't remember all of the wedding, but there are certain parts of it that are engraved on my memory, hopefully forever.

then there are the sad days. days when time stood still and the world stopped.

one of those sad days was 7 years ago today.  the day i lost my dad.

there had been a snow storm the night before, which canceled school for both Bryan and myself that day.  we were enjoying piddling around the house that day, and had sat down that afternoon to watch a movie together.  then my sister called and the world stood still.

i remember every detail of those next few days.  songs on the radio. the sky in ohio, then michigan, then kentucky.  i remember the sunny warm day of the visitation, which turned into a blizzard during the funeral procession the next day. i remember the people who came.  the people who cried. the many people whose hearts were just as broken as mine.  my dad only had two daughters, but he had been a 'dad' to many more.

i remember the strength i had during those 4 days.  strength that only came from God Himself. my mom and sister (who was only 19) were basket cases.  many times my mom was distant and incoherent. aunt and uncles, who like most southerners always talking, were silenced. my dad's youngest sister lost it during the funeral, and i was the one who got her up.

i made decisions i thought i'd never have to make. what my dad should wear, how he should look in the casket, my sister and i putting on his socks and shoes in the casket for the last time (something we always did for him growing up).  when the visitation and funeral should be.  finding a cemetery and then the exact spot for his burial.  decisions no one in their 20's should ever have to make. but my mom could barely form a sentence most of those days.  decisions God helped me make, with clear answers from Him.

there weren't many tears from me those 4 days either.  some here and there... i was rarely alone, and when with others, i was the one who had to be strong.

but every night, i was able to steal away time and sit in the outside stairway of the one motel in the city.  i called my sweet friend, kristi, every night and spent at least an hour talking over things with her.  she let me ramble on and on about the decisions and difficulties i had had each day, she prayed with me, she encouraged me, she let me be weak.  i know i wouldn't have made it without her help.

seven years later, i sit bawling through this post.  i miss him.  and when i'm alone, i can be weak.  i don't know if i'll ever see him again.  so i cling to the memories i have of him, and to his characteristics God gave to each of my children.

i hope he would be proud of me.