A year ago tomorrow, at 7:40 a.m., my dad left us, leaving a very big void in our hearts. So many people have told me that it gets easier after a year. I can't see how. There is not a day that goes by that he is not in my thoughts. I wish I could hear him laugh and tell one of his goofy jokes. See, even now, as I write this, I'm crying. I can't seem to hold the tears back...and I don't think I want to.
If Dad were here, he'd tell me, "Oh, Lee-Lee, it's gonna be alright. No need to get all emotional." I would give anything to hear him call me by my nickname again.
What is more amazing is that I still remember being in the hospital room when he was struggling for his life those last few hours. The shallow breaths and the attempt at saying "I love you" one more time. But there was also a sweet peace in the room. My cousin began to sing old church hymns and it was as if Dad were trying to raise his hands in worship to the One he would soon see.
We spent several hours at Dad's bedside, waiting for him to take his last breath. When it finally did come, I knew that he was going to be okay. He would be whole again...his heart would be perfect, he would have all his toes after losing them to disease, and there would be no more pain in his body.
Life will never be the same for me or my family, but I have a hope that I will see Dad again one of these days. And, maybe, just maybe, he will tell one of his awful jokes and we can all have a good laugh, knowing it was but only a moment we were seperated from eachother.