31 Sundays

Thirty one Sundays.... And every one, every single one, I think I am going to go about the day, get ready for Church, enjoy the entire day and not cry.  Yet here I  again.  Crying. Feeling the pain.  Wishing things were different.  Wishing the phone would ring.  Wondering how long it will take to stop feeling the gut wrenching pain because I will never hear my dad's voice again in this life.

Thirty one weeks ago yesterday our world changed.  Thirty one weeks ago today we planned a funeral and tried to figure out how to make sense of anything.  Yet the one thing that hurts the most is knowing that every Sunday from now on is another Sunday without talking to him, laughing, trusting that all will be well in the world because of him.  And my heart continues to break. 

I think it's added upon because of all of the heart ache and losses we, and others have experienced lately.  It seems like the world is out of control.  Spinning, and I don't know how to stop it, to get some kind of control back.  Not that we ever had any to begin with. But I struggle feeling like I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don't like feeling this way.  I have faith.  I have even felt tremendous peace.  It still hurts. I realized something that I've always known, yet had to be reminded again, that even though we have perfect peace in a situation, doesn't mean we are free from feeling the pains of mortality.   It is how we gain empathy, sympathy, and a greater understanding of what the Savior suffered for us.  It makes us better.  It softens us. It allows us to lean on The Lord.  

I suppose the thunder and lightening and gloomy skies didn't help today.  It probably doesn't help me to come home from church and try to nap listening to the Merle Haggard radio station. I want to cry though.  I have to be tough but I don't want to be.  I want to feel the pain. I want to feel it until the tears bring me fully to peace.  I want to cry until the hurt is cried out and only joy in the life he lived is left.  I want to forgive.  I want to let go and no longer feel alone even in a room full of people.  I want my broken heart to mend.  

Thirty one Sundays.  It seems like so many.  Except it feels like it just happened.  I wish there weren't so many other emotions attached to my dad's death.  I wish there weren't so many other issues all wrapped up in it... But then that would be easy wouldn't it?  I wouldn't have so many opportunities to grow, and stretch, and trust, and believe. I wouldn't have to use my faith to know that it really is ok.  We are ok.  And one day all of this will be ok.  So for now I will allow my heart to feel everything it needs to feel, cry every tear and count the Sundays and miss my dad.  Because truly, everything really will be ok.