For the rest of my life, whenever October 6 rolls around, it's going to be a more difficult day than the rest in the year. Two years ago today, Dad passed away.
I still miss him every day. I miss him as if I just lost him yesterday. But my emotions in dealing with that sense of loss and grief have evolved during the last 731 days.
More often than not, I laugh when I think about him. Little things that he used to do will come to mind and I'll just break into a grin. I'll catch myself doing something that will remind me just how much I really am like him.
Don't get me wrong, I still cry from time to time. Though it's gotten easier since his passing, it's still difficult comprehending a world where my Dad isn't. There are times when I wish I could sit down and talk with him. Times when there's so much going on in my life, I just want to hear his thoughts about the choices I'm making. Times I just want to hear what he has to say about the election or about what's for dinner or about some episode of Star Trek that I know he's seen a couple dozen times.
The afternoon of the day he died, I bought a Mark Schultz album. On it, there's a song called Until I See You Again. It's actually on the CD twice. I guess God really wanted me to hear that one. I didn't listen to the CD until late the next day. And the song brought me to tears, but did a great job reminding me of the hope that I have. It's written from the perspective of one who's just passed away, reminding his child to continue living life and knowing that they are loved. Even though the child wants so badly to see their loved one again, they are reminded not to take this time for granted, and soon enough, they'll be together again.
I don't think Mark Schultz will be reading this blog, but if he did I'd want to say thank you for that song. God has used the lyrics to serve as a reminder to myself and, I'm sure, others. I miss Dad and selfishly want him here, but I know that he's in the presence of joy. For that I am grateful.