I read another daughter's blog this morning about her dear father's declining health. She is already in the process of grieving because she is preparing herself to let go. Letting go of how things were, living with how things are and getting ready for how things will be.
I remember being at the beginning of grieving. Maybe I am somewhere in the middle now. I do not believe there is an end to grieving. Because there are those moments when a sight, a sound, or a smell propels you back in time. And unexpectedly the tears you thought were all cried out flow again, a deep sadness you thought time had replaced with the joy of memories settles over you, and the yearning for one more hug, one more talk, one more moment is unfulfilled.
I will confide that I have a special one more moment with my Dad every Sunday morning. Sitting in the church sanctuary before service begins, I ALWAYS look towards the door to the left of the platform. In my mind's eye, I see a vision of my father framed in the doorway as he enters the sanctuary from his Sunday School class. His Bible is under his arm, his steps are slower, his once erect 6'4" stature is now stooped, his white hair is beautifully combed with every hair in place and he is strikingly sharp in his colorful suit coat with matching tie.
It is only a brief glimpse. But in this moment, I still feel Dad is there with me. I miss you Dad!
