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.
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
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