Three weeks ago today, my dad breathed his final breath. He was born, from time into eternity. He passed quietly and without any fanfare on this side of Heaven, but I am sure there was rejoicing on the other side when he arrived.
One vision that stands so clear in my memory of my dad is one where he is holding the screen door open wide on the house on Grant, where I grew up, and his smile is as wide as his face and his eyes and countenance are welcoming someone. That is how he was, he loved to have people come into our home, he entertained some, he comforted some, he counselled some, he tolerated some, but he welcomed all. He was that kind of man. I know without a doubt he is standing in wait for those of us who are still on this side of Heaven.
I know my dad loved me. He wasn't one to tell us that on a regular basis. In fact, I am not sure I ever heard those three words directed specifically toward me. His love language was not the spoken word, his love was an action word.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
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