Make no mistake

The dam has not broken yet.

How to you plan for your dad's death? I have heard the words, I've read the notes, and I've seen my sister's faces. This is no joke. This is no accident. This is no mistake. My dad is dying.

Unbelievable.

I haven't had my breakdown yet, but I almost did this morning. One of my dear friends from middle school, who also happens to work at our church, accidentally** intercepted me on my way into the building to see my Pastor.
**let's be real--it wasn't an accident or coincidence, He was in complete control of our meeting.

Anyway, I was on my way in to talk with my Pastor, while on the phone with her (she didn't know I was coming in so she called to check in on me) and when I got to the parking lot she was there. What a God send. I adore my Pastor Vogt. I really do. He has been a prominent figure for our whole family ever since we joined our church, and I know he is someone I can turn to, but Lisa was exactly what I needed today. She knew just what to say-and not say. She helped me work through some of my feelings and best yet she reminded me that my relationship with God does not always have to be sunshine and roses. I don't have to feel guilty about being mad right now. Adding guilt onto the feelings that I am having is unnecessary. He knows I'm angry. He understands, and He loves me enough to let me be mad. Just like a parent with our kids. The boys get angry with me sometimes, but I love them no matter what. Always. Forever. He loves me. Even though I am angry. I don't doubt His ability to take care of my dad. I'm just having trouble accepting His plan.

I saw him today. My dad that is--not God--although I did feel Him in many of my conversations and situations today. Praise Him for that. Anyway, I saw my dad today. It's funny because I just saw him 2 weeks ago in his house, and last week in the hospital, but suddenly he looks weaker, and more fragile. He has narcotics and drugs up the wazoo--because people who are dying should not feel pain, say the doctors. Again, I just want to say "but we aren't talking about someone who is....the 'd' word...we're talking about my dad." Turns out I could say it...but he is the 'd' word.

I ended my day with my book club ladies. We went out this month instead of having it in one of our homes...we ate at a wonderful restaurant and ate some delicious gelato and ended our evening--where else but a bookstore! It was a fantastic distraction from how I have been feeling all day. But eventually I did have to say good bye to them, and my family is sleeping, so now I sit.

A blob again. Numb. No direction, no clue how to spend my day tomorrow. No ambition. No holiday spirit.

My dad is going to die. Make no mistake.