4 Months

I woke up that morning to 14 new text messages, 12 missed calls And 3 voice mails. All urgently telling me to go to  Corona Regional, that my Dad was in the ER not breathing. 

I was in a fog, as I had only gone to bed 3 hours previous to waking up to what would be the worst day of my life. I scrambled, told my best friend and left. I do not remember my drive to the hospital, I do remember arriving and just pleading to see Him. The nurse asked if I was prepared (what  on earth is she taking about I  thought) "Yes of course" I stammered, He's my dad for crying out loud. I was so not prepared. Nothing in all creation could have prepared me. My dad was on a ventilator, with blood still all over His face. My mom was crying. I ran out because I thought I would be sick. 

The rest of that day is a blur. I do not remember much but I  do remember the sweet friends who  came and sat and cried and prayed and hugged. The phone calls, texts. Prayers offered up on our behalf. Every time he coded, and our hearts sank. My mom who never ever stopped praying and believing that God could and would heal my dad. I admire her strength. I remember the doctor telling us "His heart was functioning at 10 percent and that there was no brain activity" I remember the sobs. Crying out to God on filthy hospital floor for His will and not my own. The courage and selflessness my Mom had in letting Him go. And now in the aftermath, I have good days and Bad. Days were my heart isn't so heavy and grief doesn't consume my every thought. Days where I have Joy and peace. But not today. Today, it's been four months, exactly.

What I do not have is my Dad. And that loss is deeper than anything I could put on paper. It is real, definitive, gaping. It is the reality of my new life.

I am a 23 year old with out a dad.

My dad will not be here to walk me or my sister down the aisle. Our children will not know Him. My four year old little brother will grow up without him. My mom will finish this life without him. I cannot hug him. Or talk to him. 

Everyday is a reminder that He is gone and is not coming back. 

What I do have are 23 years of wonderful memories. 

  I have pictures. Pictures of us together.

The things he taught me and the legacy he left behind.

Amazing and wonderful friends who help keep me grounded.

The gift of waking up every day and telling my Story. 

Real life tangible people that are still here, alive and breathing. 

People who need hope and Jesus. And if I am so consumed by my loss, I might just miss them. Miss the opportunity to continue the beautiful legacy my Dad left behind. 

But most importantly I have God who holds me and is my ultimate Father.

Who has a plan in this even if I don't see it.

Who is weaving something far more beautiful and greater together  than my loss or pain. Who knows all and sees all. He is good, always.

Dad,

Know we miss you so much. There is not a day that goes by where our hearts don't ache for you. We love you, and we can't wait to be reunited with you. See you soon.

All my love,

Britt

He Carries Me

The past few weeks have been a blur of anger, despair and sadness. Crying until I have no tears left. Trying to go about life as "normal" when everything around me  is a constant reminder of that loss. 

My heart aches over the Dad I will never  get to wrap my arms around again, over my dad not walking me down the aisle, even in the small ways like seeing my dad's Facebook, I cried until I couldn't breathe, and my computer screen was covered in the fingerprints of a daughter who just wants her dad back. I cry over the little boy who will not grow up knowing His Father, I cry over my mama who has to face this life without her beloved.
I've been so angry I just don't know what to do with my self.

These things happen often, Just when I am feeling "okay", despair comes and knocks me down hard. I was having an "okay" day last week when I went to visit my mom, everything was fine until we received my dads death certificate in the mail. Needless to say, I lost it...... There have been a lot of shouting matches with God, and I felt like it was time for another one. 

“You could have let him live! Why?  What do you have to gain from all of this loss??”  I literally screamed at the sky while I cried over my own hurt. He never backs down, though, and I am so thankful for that love. It is the love of a Father who Himself is well-acquainted with grief.  It is the love of a Father Who has lost His Son. He understands the ranting and the door-slamming. The emptiness that wraps around me when I think of my Dad.  He knows.

And He only has one request:

Come to me, bring it right to me, Brittni. 

I'm big enough. 

Bring it to My feet, and I will make an altar from your suffering.  

This, this is true. While I have never experienced loss, and sorrow this big, I have experienced His peace and presence that much more. 

If I have learned one thing these past few weeks, He carries me. He carries me when I can't take one more step.

He carries me when it would just be easier to give up.

He carries me when I ask for the strength to be weak, and just let Him carry me.

Below is a picture of me and me Dad the day I was born. It is definitely one of my favorite photos of us. My friends, I don't know what season of life you are currently in, but I encourage you to just let Him carry you.