A Body & A Soul


Yesterday was hard. It still hasn’t sunk in even. Given more time, more time of him being absent from family functions, the holidays and dinners, I’ll feel more broken without Dad beside me.

I sat next to Dad a lot when we’d go out. Especially with large groups, I have to be where the action is – where the jokes will be hurled and the laughs will be big. Yesterday, standing or sitting next to family members, next to the other jokesters, I felt somewhat lost. Where was Dad? He should be here. Right here.

I can still hear his laugh. I know what he would say in situations. I can see his smile or when he’s about to crack up so hard he can’t breathe, he turns so red and leans back a little bit.

The other day I saw a toothpick and I was like that’s random… but I thought of him. He ALWAYS had a toothpick. He had a stash by his recliner at home, a stash in his truck and car and there ended up being some in my mom’s truck too. Every restaurant we went to, “I need a toothpick, I gotta eat again,” he’d say. I’d say, “Seriously??” but we’d always laugh about it, that’s just Dad.

His body was tan, weathered from the work he did and all those hours upon hours spent on golf courses. His body was always warm. He was rarely cold and usually when he was cold inside the house he was actually sick. I’ll miss those warm hugs so much.

Dad’s body has been through a lot in his many years. He battled cancer before but this fight took him and he wasn’t given time to do anything about it. The battle was silent. The pain he must have endured and the strength he’s shown in the midst of the unknown… unfair but part of a plan.


God’s plan was all about Dad’s soul. He allowed him to be a part of a God-fearing family growing up. He was given life in times where my Dad had said that he didn’t deserve. Dad understood the preciousness of life and that everyday was a gift. He told me that many times.

This past year we talked more on the driveway. Every time, he mentioned the end of times, that he wouldn’t be around forever or that he wanted to see the year 2020. “My Dad told me when I was growing up that I’d get the chance probably to see 2020. We’ll see if I can make it.” It’s kind of sad now that he didn’t get to, but it’s just a spec of time compared to the eternity he gets to spend with our Creator. I’ll have to remember that.

A part of me feels like he knew something was about to take him away. We would talk and he would talk about when he’s gone – he wanted to make sure I knew he was proud of me, that he loved me and that no matter what I did he would always feel that way. I never would have thought that I’d lose him so soon, before we got to do anything together really just us or go on that road trip we talked about and take my new car out and really break it in.

Dad’s soul was pure and kind, generous and loving, outgoing and faithful. His faith in the Lord was evident every time we talked about life, standing on the concrete driveway. Concrete, a pretty firm foundation for sure. Dad’s foundation was in the Lord. He always thanked God in those times, how blessed he was to have all he had. He said that he felt like he had more when he had less stuff. Always giving wisdom, my Dad.

We buried a body, but a special soul is flying high, safe in the presence of our Savior.

For to me, living means living for Christ, and dying is even better. But if I live, I can do more fruitful work for Christ. So I really don’t know which is better. I’m torn between two desires: I long to go and be with Christ, which would be far better for me. But for your sakes, it is better than I continue to live.

Philippians 1:21-24

Good people pass away; the godly often die before their time. But no one seems to care or wonder why. No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come. For those who follow godly paths will rest in peace when they die.

Isaiah 57:1-2