As tears fall down my face, I keep thinking back to the last day that I saw him. My aunt (Dad's sister) took me home to clean up. I knew that there was a possibility that I wouldn't see him alive again. So, I went up to his bed and said, "Daddy, I'm leaving. I love you." He looked at me and blinked hard, almost like he was trying to keep from crying. I turned away so that I wouldn't cry. I turned back around to him and he mouthed, "I love you too."
What I wouldn't give to hear that one last time! I would give anything to hear that laugh again. I want to hear him call me Pea Baby or Sweet Pea. I want to talk to him about things--guys, family, God, friends. But I can't. And I hate it.
I was not ready to say goodbye to him. I was not ready to let him go. He's having the biggest party in Heaven. He's laughing it up with his parents, friends, family friends, and all who've gone before him.
I read a book once, 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper. Don went to Heaven for an hour and a half. He described it as indescribable with earthly words. He also described how he felt. He said that he felt whole, happy, and not thinking about who he left on earth. My dad's not thinking about us. He's not caught up in the fact that we are struggling. He's not heartbroken for us. I almost wish he was. But he has a smile on his face all the time. And what a great smile he had! He is worshipping his Creator every minute. But I just can't get it off my mind that he's not thinking about me. I think about him everyday.
I'll never be the same.
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