This has been a (insert adjective here) month. On June 10th, we welcomed our second child, Evan James into the world. Nine days later, my father, James Harold, died.I don't know how to feel. I know dad's in a better place. I know he was able to see his father (and mother, and brother and sister, and so many others) on when he left on Father's Day. But I don't know how to feel.
I really don't know what to write. I know I should write. I know that's what dad would want me to do.
Right now I can't.
For now I'll just say thank you to everyone who has prayed for me and my family in recent weeks. Thank you to everyone who has helped in providing food for Daphne and Jackson and me after her complicated surgery. Thank you to everyone who came to the hospital or house to visit us. And after dad died, thank you to everyone who came to the funeral home for visitation and church for the memorial service.
Today would have been Mom and Dad's 45th wedding anniversary. I looked it up and that's the sapphire anniversary, but then again so is the 65th. So, I suppose they might as well have been married 65 years.
It's my hope that I can be as good a father--and a better father--than my dad was. It's my hope that I can be as good a husband--and a better husband--than my dad was. He has taught me well in both departments.
My dad used to sign every letter he wrote with the words "With you in the journey." And even though he's no longer physically with us in the journey, I still feel him. Perhaps that's the one thing I do know I feel: I feel my father with me in the journey.
