January 1925 - February 2011
it is finished. dad, your time of suffering is over. i will miss you every day. i haven't really been able to process everything just yet, but maybe you're not really supposed to all at once. i know that i don't really believe in a mass breakdown that comes rushing at you out of nowhere. i think it's more like cracks along the surface, fissures that release pressure over time.
i don't know if i'll ever meet a man with such a tender heart and stubborn spirit. it was really hard for me to watch his decline over the years. not just physically, but also emotionally. dad was a fighter, but i'm afraid his battles left him a shell of what he once was. i watched him go from being a strong, healthy man to a frail, ailing old man, and from a vibrant, vivacious spirit to a withdrawn, grouchy, unpleasant person to be with. but i will choose to remember the older times, the good ones. i will remember the lessons learned, how i always felt loved by him. he has given me such a wonderful picture of the Father's heart. i look at pictures of him holding me as a baby, and it's so clear that he came alive after i was born. i brought joy and youth to a time in his life when he thought he had experienced all there was. he taught me my value, what it means to be pursued.
the Lord will heal me, and is healing me. His plans are to prosper me and not to destroy me. this journey has brought me to a point where all that is in me, everything i have and know, all i can do is lift my hands and say "Holy, Holy, Holy, how GOOD is the Lord!" and trust and believe that these things are true. i sort of picture everything that i know is true being written on a scroll and wrapped around the length of an anchor that i'm holding onto for dear life. the Lord is and will be my anchor.
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