Hate is a Strong Word (re-post)

It’s pure selfishness really, to be mad that he isn’t here, I hate it. To miss him so much, knowing how his earthly body had failed him for so many years and being confident that he is now healed and whole, that damn wheelchair is no longer necessary, and he is having the most glorious days at the feet of Jesus.

Do I think he would want to come back to the world we are currently living in? I think he would hate every retched minute of what we’ve become, and I wouldn’t want him to. Yet every year, starting January 2, I wake each day re-living with crazy clarity what happened on that day nine years ago. I know where we were, what happened, who was there, it’s like a movie playing that I hate and don’t really want to sit through but am unable to turn off.

Nine years ago, surrounded by his girls, my daddy was finally able to rest. There were angels in the room as we said our goodbyes, it was another of the beautiful memories I’m blessed to treasure from those twenty years. I hate that I re-live those fifteen days, I hate that I’m overly emotional for days leading up to the seventeenth, I hate that he’s missed out on so many things my children have accomplished, I hate that we call this date an anniversary, which makes it sound positive, and it is, but only for him. I hate that I’m so selfish that I would wish him back here with us.

You know what he’d say to all that?

’Hate is a strong word Kimbo.’

Daddy, nine years ago you left the brokenness of this world, but you have never left our hearts. Thank you for being the voice in my head and the music in my heart. I LOVE you #alot