The sound of a ringing phone on a bright summer morning is not unusual at our house. The sound of my older sister's voice hoarsely and abruptly directing me to call Mom was. I dialed my mother's number to hear the news I didn't want to receive. Ever.
Dad was gone.
Gone!
How could he be?
Dad was always so strong. So alive! So in charge of everything. Somehow, even though I'm well into adulthood, I felt as if Dad would live forever. Beat the odds. Never leave me. But now he was ... gone.
Gone.
Such an empty word it is.
Today, six months later, it remains equally so.
Yes, I laugh more. I get through my days better. I cry less. For all practical purposes, I look normal.
But there are still many nights when, under cover of darkness, I curl up and weep into my pillow.
If there's anything I've learned during this time of loss, it's this...
Grieving is a journey.
But it doesn't have to be a lonely one!
Are you walking this path as well? I invite you to join me in discovering that although weeping may endure for a night, joy comes in the morning! Psalm 30:5.
