My keyboard is once again feeling the weight of my fingertips. I started this blog in 2010 but haven't written a thing for the past 5 years so why start back up now? My blogging adventure has been beckoning me for at least 2 years now. But I just can't seem to find the needed quite time to focus on what my heart wants to print.
It's here now. And way overdue. Journaling is my way of sharing my heart when words just won't form and be released from my lips.
Why write? I'm not quite sure other than I feel a part of me is missing. There's a gap that can't quite be filled with activities or the spoken word. Only the written word. It's healing. Therapeutic. And forgiving. I need all of those things in my life right now.
My heart hurts like I've never experienced before. My gut throbs nearly every hour. Eating and swallowing seems to be an unnecessary chore. My cognitive skills are quite lacking. Sentences are hard to finish. My physical ailments are not due to a sickness but rather a broken heart. My precious daddy decided to live in Heaven on April 4th.
I had just visited him two weeks before this - we had a wonderful time together. Ate Cassano's pizza, played Sequence, watched movies, sat on the swing and laughed at each others sarcastic jokes! I was only home 5 days before I was to take off again on a free cruise that I had won with my company. I talked to my dad just hours before I flew out. I knew he was sick with an awful cold but he said he would be fine in a few days. Dad was a tank - he always recovered. He has cheated death over and over ... he always won.
Except this time.
A neighbor asked him to go to the motorcycle shop with him on Sunday afternoon but my dad said he didn't feel well and to give him a few days to recover. I believe he met Jesus that night. He got up in the middle of the night or early Monday morning and had his final heart attack (making it his 4th one). I received the phone call from the police while standing in a food line by myself at the Tampa airport.
I don't believe I have ever cried that violently before in my life. I remember thinking that I was going to faint as I starting running back to where my husband was. Screaming, shaking, sobbing then the numbness. I'm so thankful my husband was there with me.
Death has a way of catapulting reality back into the frontal lobe of a persons brain. A place we wish residence did not make a home. Uncontrollable emotions that surface whether we are ready to face them or not.
Death has a way of catapulting reality back into the frontal lobe of a persons brain. A place we wish residence did not make a home. Uncontrollable emotions that surface whether we are ready to face them or not.
I'm not sure what stage of grief I am currently in. It varies from hour to hour. I have a business to run. A house to keep up. A family to tend to. Life that continues forward whether I join in or not. One minute I am laughing and enjoying my family. 15 minutes later, I'm on the floor gasping for air. 4 days after we arrived back home, it was my birthday. I attempted to call my daddy because I just knew he must have forgotten. Goodness, I loved this man!
I am sorry if I haven't returned your phone call. Sometimes talking is just too volatile. I'm sorry that I haven't come back to church yet. Being around people who know my heart is just too hard right now. If I have missed an appointment, please forgive me. If I cry when you ask me how I want my package mailed, just bear with me. If you know someone who has lost a dear family member, extend grace and please pray for them.
I know God called you home, daddy. I trust Him and His perfect plan. Why wouldn't He want your contagious smile and belly-laugh?
Sometimes it's hard to breathe without you. Thank you for being my daddy. Thank you for loving me and always being proud of anything I did. Thank you for the 6 voice mails that I was able to recover so I can hear your voice again whenever I want. Thank you for your humor. Thank you for giving us 73 years of your jolly self.
Enjoy your days in Heaven with my two brothers .... until I see you again,
Your little girl