Missing my Dad

I’m just not even sure how or where to start with this post. The past few days I’ve been in anticipating Father’s Day rolling around and have been seriously dreading it! It’s not surprising that “Father’s Day” takes on a new definition when your Dad dies. My definition of Father’s Day now includes a tug in my heart knowing that my Dad is no longer just a phone call away. Instead, I’ll get a lump in my throat thinking back to last November and December when he suffered physically and mentally, only because he saw what was going on with his body. He felt each neuron fire off for the last time and one by one each muscle was destined to wither away.

But today, I’m going to do everything I can to not let the lump in my throat, the tug in my heart, or the brick in my stomach get the best of me. I’m going to be thankful that I had a wonderful dad who was part of my life for 38 years. That I had a chance to say goodbye. That I had a chance to know what his final wishes were. To have the peace knowing he did not have to continue to suffer. That he never got to the point of not being able to swallow or talk. He didn’t have to have tubes or monitors or hospital rooms to squash what little bit of ‘freedom’ he had in his last days. To know that he got to spend Christmas with his family and that he wasn’t alone. To know that I got to talk to him hours before he passed over into God’s Kingdom, where he is now pain and worry free. Yes, that is quite a list of many things and definitely enough to make myself stop bathing in self-pity. On this Father’s Day, I’m going to be thankful and remember how very blessed I am to have had Kent Wells as my Dad.