It's been a rough 10 days. 10 days ago I found out that my daddy had died the night before, at home, alone. Everyone says he didn't suffer, that he went quickly, that he was probably dead before his body hit the floor. I hope they are right. But that mental image of my daddy lying on his face on the floor all night before anyone even knew what had happened is hard to handle.
Saturday morning began so well. Our younger son and his family were here. We had just had a leisurely breakfast together. We were making plans to go down the mountain to town (AJ's words!) when the phone rang. And then came the news. Daddy had gone to be with Jesus.
We had planned to visit him last Sunday. We had a new TV for him to replace the one damaged by lightning a few weeks ago. We were all there on Sunday. But he wasn't.
I have always known I was blessed with a very special Daddy. That has been reaffirmed over and over in the past 10 days as I have heard people share their experiences with him. I've heard from people he led to Christ. I've talked with his childhood friends about how they picked cotton together. I've been blessed over and over to hear what a difference he made in so many lives, just by being who he was.
I know he is with Jesus. I know I will see him again someday. But right now, Daddy, I miss you.
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