January 13, 1995. I'm not superstitious, but ironically, it was Friday the 13th.
The phone rang early that morning as Greg & I contemplated our fun plans for the day. My sister-in-law was crying on the other end of the line, struggling to deliver the bad news. "Sharon, your dad died last night." I dropped the phone and collapsed in sobs, with waves of grief I'd never experienced paralyzing me.
Our patriarch gone. Taken in his sleep by his first heart attack. He went to sleep and woke up in Heaven. What a way to go!
I miss him. I hate that my kids never got to meet him. BUT I know with all my heart that we'll have eternity together. I fully expect to have two fathers waiting for me in heaven -- my earthly father and my Heavenly father.
During our trip to Ohio, we made sure to stop by the cemetary to pay our respects. Here are the kids with Gram at Grandpa's grave.
Love the people in your life, as you're not promised tomorrow. Live with no regrets, because sometimes you don't get a second chance. I love you, dad.
2 comments:
I am holding back tears as I read...I am praying for you today! Love you
How wonderful to keep the eternal perspective. How fortunate to have that. Hugs and prayers for you today. I'm often struck by how fleeting this life is.
Post a Comment