What now?

Thoughts of my dad seem to hit most when I am forced to sit still. Which is usually while I'm lying in bed or driving to and from work. The last time I spoke to my dad was on my way home from work, and the scenery always reminds me of him. I don't struggle a whole lot any other time of the day. (Probably because I otherwise never sit still!) But during these alone times, sometimes the tears just spill uncontrollably.

This morning I checked email right before walking out the door, and Jeromy had just sent a forward from a co-worker, which stated that the husband of another of his co-worker's passed away on Sunday. From cancer. Exactly two weeks after my dad. We plan on attending at least the viewing this week. An engineer by trade but crafter by hobby, Sandy arranged some of the flowers for our wedding. She even drove us all the way to Williamsburg Pottery a few months ahead of time to choose silks. She is the sweetest woman. I'm not sure what type of cancer her husband suffered from, but it doesn't matter. I just need to hug her.















This is Sandy, with her back to the camera (on the right). Sorry I don't have a better picture. This was at our rehersal dinner. Oh, and I just noticed my dad wearing yellow in the background!















Some of Sandy's handiwork. She also did a beautiful job on the large platform arrangements.

Of course, this news set off a snot ball of emotions. I've been at work a half hour already, and the tears still won't stop. I can't tell you how I have rejoiced for my dad's arrival to heaven; to all-encompassing bliss and happiness, leaving behind all the pain and difficulty he experienced here on earth even before his cancer. Yet, I cry when I think about having to wait to share life with him again. We immensely enjoy the lifetime God grants us, but sometimes it seems entirely too long. We want this life and the life to come all at the same time. It is not abnormal to want to experience holidays, births, family functions, conversations, jokes, movies, and every mundane aspect of life you can think of with our loved one. What will Christmas be like without him now? Or Father's Day? I think about how I never got to meet my maternal grandfather, since he died of cancer the year before I was born, and now I desire to whisk away the irony that my future children will neither get to meet theirs. I am so torn between feeling relief that my dad's suffering is over, and devastation at his absence.

Semi trucks seem to trigger thoughts of my dad like nothing else. Which could also serve as a reason I miss him during my commute. When I see those big rigs on the road I can't stand them. They are what kept my dad from a good night's sleep in over two decades. They are what kept him from eating well and taking care of his body. They are what kept him away from his family far too much. Besides the long hours, receiving much of any time off seemed an extremely difficult task with this company, even for doctor visits. I am trying not to let that bother me, I confess that sometimes it does. I am bitter when I see truck drivers because I know my dad was not the stereotypical "trucker". He did not look, or act the part. My dad did not love his job, and his family didn't much either.

But his work is over. He will never have to start up a diesel engine in a -40 degree windchill again. I will never again have to worry about my dad on icy roads - or any road for that matter! He is far, far away from the daily grind. A truck should not have to remind me of the negativity it brought into my dad's life, but the positive. It should remind me of my dad's provision for his family, for his love and care for us. Trucking did not define my dad. Jesus did. His family did. His personality did. And he has finally rested from his labors and is at this minute anticipating the day when we will rest from ours.

But, I still miss him.