Back to our previously scheduled programming...

Sitting in my spot in the livingroom. Journal, Bible, coffee...but having a hard time concentrating. I'm a bit numb.

Three weeks ago this past Sunday my dad went into the hospital.
One week ago this past Sunday he died.
That next week was spent planning a funeral, cleaning out his room, cleaning out my house from two weeks of me being gone to the hospital and in anticipation of relatives arriving...
Saturday was the funeral.
Sunday we spent 7 hours in a rented van taking his body to his burial plot in Iowa.
Yesterday was the burial and the 7 hour return trip.
The last relative was just dropped at the airport.

I guess it's ok that I'm numb.

I'm wearing my dad's green cardigan, paging through his latest Bible. Grief has come in waves, but mostly I think I've been too busy to really mourn. It will likely come at odd times when I think to ask him something, or I drive by the nursing home.

He was so dependent, and his body failing, but in God's mercy He allowed my father to have his full mind right until the end. My brother took home the notes on dad's desk from the latest sermon he was preparing.

It's just odd to think that all that knowledge, and all that experience is just gone... and I know...he heavily invested his life in people, so it's not "gone," ...but still. He's gone.

My prayer warrior is gone. He prayed for our family continually.

And my biggest cheerleader is gone. I walked on water in the eyes of my daddy. He knew my faults but looked right past and through them. They were instantly forgotten. It was the closest thing to God's love that I've ever felt.

I think this is going to take a while. But that's ok. I was blessed beyond all reason with the dad that I had, and the legacy that he has left me is rich and full. I have stacks of hand written sermons, and dozens of audio tapes through which to remember him.

I moved my parents to Milwaukee 8.5 years ago. It's been an amazing journey. I'm a different person coming out on this end of it. And that's a very good thing. I definitely have a lot more wrinkles, and a lot more compassion.

I'm no longer a daughter. Hmmmm.