Holidays and Memories Past.

Yesterday, we celebrated Easter and Christ’s resurrection from the grave.

I love Easter and cannot put into words how grateful I am for my Savior’s sacrifice and His conquering of death.

However, Easter and other holidays often represent a silent challenge for me.

Having experienced the loss of my dad at fifteen, it is often times difficult for me around the holidays.

Yesterday, as I heard laughter  coming from the multitude of joyous kids and their Easter egg hunt, I smiled.

I also struggled to hold my composure.

When I was in Kindergarten, my dad had a massive stroke.

The stroke left my dad paralyzed on his whole left side, and with significant brain injury.

My dad would never be the same person after the stroke.

He ended up moving to Tennessee to be with my grandparent’s and to get the care he needed.

I have the vaguest of memories of the person my dad was before his stroke.

Afterwards, my only contact with him would be through the short visits and brief phone calls I had with him.

Growing up without a dad has been difficult, and losing him at 15 was the toughest thing I ever had to endure.

I often wonder, what would my life look like with him still in the picture?

There isn’t a day that goes by where I am not reminded of my dad’s absence.

There is a dangerous misconception in our society that real men don’t cry or show emotion.

I can tell you firsthand however, crying and grieving are not signs of weakness.

They are signs of strength and healing.

There are days where if I could not cry over my dad, I would not know what to do.

I take comfort in knowing that my dad now has a new body.

I take comfort in knowing that my dad suffers no more pain.

I take comfort in knowing that one day, I will see him again.

And on that day, we will finally be able to make our long awaited embrace.

On that day, there will be no more tears or sorrow.

There will be hugs.

There will be laughter.

There will be long conversations.

And as Easter and other holidays come along, we will joyously celebrate.



As father and son.

Until that day, I press on.

Until that day, I endure.

Waiting for that one day, where I won’t have to anymore.





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