Stronger...but not harder

December 13, almost 12 months since your passing.

One year ago today I wrote about the end being near, and the doctor giving us our first indication that you might night make it. It was cold, bitter cold outside and inside.  We were in a daze, and the darkness was so thick, it was choking, all we could do was drop to our knees and plead for help, for mercy.

It came.

Not in the way we hoped for, but relief nonetheless.

No more struggles, no more fears, no more sleepless nights waiting for the hospital to call.

Relief.

Sounds so selfish.

Relief, like it was a task, a job.  That is not true.

Long ago in another life, before I saw death, I wrote about the task before us, how we stand behind the generation before us on this conveyor belt of life, and as the one before us nears their end, we are there with them - number two, supporting, holding, caring, giving grace and helping maintain integrity.

We did it.

We made it.

We have struggled with empty spaces this year.  Your birthday, Father's Day, Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, and now Christmas is coming.

But it is different.

Last year, I felt like I could not appreciate the holidays, the joy of Christmas, I almost felt guilty - having a good time as you were fighting to survive.  I knew I could not do anything for you, but I wanted to be there, in case you "woke up" - I wanted you to know I was still with you, that I was strong - like you needed.

I guess you knew what you were doing when we were younger, and you refused to coddle us.  You told me what a hard cold world it is, and how I needed to know what I believe and stand for it, even if it meant losing everything.  I watched you stand like that at times and the precipice was so close, I wondered if you would fall - but you did not.  When you did all you could do, you stood, and a divine comfort, a peace that passes understanding was always there, and you were always okay.

Always.

I watched a presentation at our church yesterday, perhaps the best I have ever seen.  It was the same old story - a Christian remake of "The Christmas Carol."

One thing stood out - when Tiny Tim passed away in the visit of the Ghost of the Future - Angels gently picked up his broken, tired body and like precious cargo, a newborn, they carried him into eternity.

Like a newborn.

Wow.

I felt like I was watching that moment in January, but this time I saw it differently.  I saw you carried by the angels, like a newborn, the most precious cargo, to meet your family.

It felt like broken places began to heal, the mortar of anger was washed away, and the stony places in my heart were softened.

And I am stronger.

I will always miss you, my father, my "Daddy." This year has been a great year of learning, and I think I understand...I finally understand.

We all make mistakes, some that can never be undone.  But we must never stop striving to be the best person we can be, to love - even when it is hard, and to forgive.  Only through forgiveness can we grow, and be forgiven. Only when we forgive, are we strong.

Stronger...but not harder.

Holding fast to what we believe, what we hope, what we know...yet remaining flexible enough to never condemn the questions of the broken, the cries of the hurting, or the mistakes of the fallen.

We all need a hero, someone that is not a comic book character - but someone shaped like a regular guy that feels pain, bleeds, and makes mistakes...and never gives up.

Thanks for the year of learning - I am on the right path...

Stronger...but not harder.

You can rest in peace Dad, it's going to be okay.