Moving On and Remembering to Live again

Today marks the third week since my father's passing. The first week was one of the hardest of my short existence on this earth. Since I was still on break from college and I am the only one of siblings without a family of my own to care for, I therefore took upon myself the task of organizing a memorial service for my dad. I did this to spare my already busy siblings, but I did not expect to learn or grow so much in one week. Becca and I went through my dad's belongings and found his journal. In it I discovered my father that I had never taken the time to get to know before. For most of my life I've been angry and bitter towards him for things he didn't do, but really I should have seen what he did do. I learned, through reading, how much he loved me. Although he was well read and versed, my dad did not have a very effective way of expressing himself. I have always believed that actions speak louder than words and as a result I didn't believe him when he said he loved me. But in looking at his actions, I forgot to listen to what he was saying. I now know that my daddy truly did love me, more than I ever cared to admit while he was alive.

Since I was planning everything, I got extremely stressed out, but I think in so doing, I grew up. I thought I was mature and grown up just because I was nineteen and in college and had some tough times in High School. But now I know that the worst is yet to come. My life so far has been a cake walk compared to what the future holds. But, surprisingly, I'm okay with that. In my dad's death, I also grew closer to my Heavenly Father who listens when I speak, who answers when I call, and he also weeps whenever my tears fall. Through my savior's sacrifice, I will see my dad again and I will wrap my arms around him and tell him how much I love him.

Yes, losing a parent is tragic, but forgetting who you are and how to live is a horrible result that should never appear. I have been beating myself up with guilt for things I didn't say, but there were still things I did say that mattered. I saw my dad the day before he died and I gave him a hug and told him I loved him. And although it may seem trivial, I feel comfort knowing that we parted in love.