today's letter to dad

Hey Dad, I saw this and I thought you'd get a huge kick out of it. I don't even usually like Pearls Before Swine.

Also, I had this whole thing with my credit card this week, where someone stole my number and charged $1,000+ at a local store, but Capital One contacted me and canceled my card and everything is well. It's the card you helped me pick out when you came to Seattle when Laurel was born, remember? It has the tulips on it? I really wanted to call you and tell you the whole story, to hear what you had to say about it. You know everything there is to know about credit cards and stuff.

Plus it's been getting really dark lately, and all those lights you put in for me in June are really coming in handy. Gosh I love them. I'm so grateful for you. I'm so so so glad you came to see me in June.

I miss you so much.

Love you, Dad,
Angela

realms unknown

I think about Dad a lot. I can't remember our last conversation, our last words. I don't know if I told him I loved him. I know he knew, but still. It's hard to have him go so suddenly.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at how hard this still is. It's been a few months... two months almost exactly. I am back in my real life but it doesn't feel real. Sometimes I just think about Dad and I'm overcome with emotion. I'll start to cry. Sometimes I'm in the car and Wesley pipes up from the backseat and says, "Mommy, are you sad Grandpa died?" It's like he knows! I guess I should be grateful that means I'm not usually sad, and if I cry it's for a dang good reason!

The part I struggle with, maybe the most, is that dying is so personal, so individual. People dying from cancer can be dying in a hospital bed, surrounded by family holding their hands. Dad didn't have that same experience. He was on his own, fighting this crazy thing happening inside his body and not being sure what was going on. I know Mom and Brad were there physically, but I imagine he was so out of sorts he didn't register that they were there supporting him. I just picture him in the back of the minivan, trying to breathe, weighing the situation.

I just keep thinking about how SCARED he must have been. Was he scared? Death was staring him in the face. I guess even the cancer patient lying in bed or the elderly person nearing the end can also feel SCARED, but I wonder what it was like for Dad. I find it funny thinking to myself that I just wish I could have been there. Maybe that would be more closure for me? Or maybe I hate that he had to go through it first. He had to pave the way. Out of our tight knit family of five, he is the only one who has experienced this.

Maybe he wasn't scared of death; I know he knew the gospel was true. Maybe instead he was scared of his body failing, or of leaving Mom behind, or of considering projects unfinished. But no matter what, he faced this thing of trepidation on his own and it happened, regardless of his fear or his readiness or his intentions.

I know his soul lives on, and I know it's all OK, and I know we're sealed forever.... but the unknown is still so scary. I suppose I haven't conquered my fear yet. I miss you Dad.