Gateways to Joy

T oday is the day.  Today is the day that we memorialize my father.  It's a bitter-sweet day.  I will miss him so.  Still can't believe that this season is upon me.  I want to run and hide—yell at God and say, "No, no!"   But I can't. I must accept all that the hand of my loving heavenly Father gives, though it seems unfair.  Unfair to take a husband away from his wife.  Unfair to take a father away from his daughter.  Unfair to take grandfather away from grandchildren. I'd hoped he would live to see my children, graduate, get married and have children of their own.  But it is not to be. I'd hoped that we would one day travel.  My husband, me and them—my parents. Last night, as I cried silently.  I shared with my husband that I knew it was his heart.  Had suspected it all alone, but why didn't I tell him.  I shared it with my mother, though, I didn't even share with her the extent of how bad it coul...

M y heart is sadden as I tap out this post .  This morning about 11:00 AM, my mother called my husband's phone upset.  He gave me the phone and she began—hysterically telling me that something was wrong with my father. "Did you call 911?"   I asked. "I tried, but my phone isn't getting through." "Okay, stay on this phone while I call from my phone."   I told her So I called 911.  When I got the operator on the phone I realized that I am in a different county, so I had to be transferred at least three times. While explaining to the 911 operator what was going on, my mother was giving me the status of what was going on with my father.  "His breathing is slowing down."   "His eyes are rolling in the back of his head."  "He's not breathing." "Why me Lord" I ask?  These are details that I don't care to know or remember.  But this is the place where you have me at this moment.  "Stay ...