Well, I managed to cry much less today so I don’t have sore eyes and a headache like I have the last few days. Much of that is because today has been filled with many tasks that have let me be numb and focus on what needs to be done.
After checking in on everyone asking for updates and how they can help, I helped mom come up with a solution for the media stopping by the house and calling on the phone. Then we were up at the church working through paperwork and sorting through belongings to find what belonged to dad.
We were sent home with another car load of food, which needed to be sorted and Tetris played to get everything into the refrigerator. More work was done on the obituary I started yesterday. When it is finished, it will be posted here, and include the memorials service date and time.
Miraculously, the computer my dad took to the retreat survived with only a cracked screen. The computer is packed with pictures so we hooked it up to another monitor and began the process of looking through them for the memorial slide show.
And it felt good… you know, to be busy. To feel productive is so much easier than to feel sad. Throughout the day I had to remind my mom to eat as she has lost her appetite but I felt okay. Sure, an occasional picture or comment would trigger tears but I would take a deep breath and focus on the next task and be alright.
At three this afternoon I left for Austin and didn’t return until 10 pm. Primarily, I was there to pick up my sister from the airport and to trade out dirty clothes for clean clothes at my apartment. I also caught a workout with my trainer and chatted with friends on the phone but for the most part that was a lot of time to sit and think.
Suddenly, I found myself the one without an appetite… the one who couldn’t put thoughts together without tears. There is a time to be busy and to let distractions numb the pain, but it’s unhealthy to let busyness keep me from grieving. So I just sat on my sofa staring off into nowhere and wondering how and why and what God was doing.
I opened up the Bible seeking some kind of comfort and landed on Psalm 139. Verse 16 jumped out at me: “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”
Immediately I knew that, as I said yesterday, my father lived every day that had been formed for him. But I couldn’t get off that verse; something kept calling me back. Then I realized it’s not just my dad; it’s me too.
This day, right now, was formed for me. I can’t understand how or why this happened but I know that God planned my life and knew that this was coming. My friend, Jackie, told me that all the “good things” I have been putting into myself through reading and studying these last several years have prepared me for this time.
People are watching. How I live my life is a reflection of the investments my father made into me. I will mourn. But I do not mourn as one without hope because I know my father is no longer present in his body; he is with the Lord, and I will see him again.
Until then, I will be strong and do everything I can to help my family … but I will also take time to mourn and scripture promises I will be comforted.