Day Thirteen: Lost time – Part VIII

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Did you miss Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, or Part VII?

“Dad?” I called out, softly. He just lay there. No movement, no smile, nothing.

“Dad, please talk to me.” Silence, just like when I was a kid. Nothing had changed, except for the fact that this time, I knew he wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there. He couldn’t. Corpses can’t move.

I don’t know how long I stood in front of the casket. Long enough to remember, but not long enough to forget. I couldn’t believe how many memories could fit in such a small box.

I didn’t cry. It’s hard to cry when you’re feeling so many different emotions at one time. It’s weird, too, to have so many different feelings and how some of them can be so much stronger than the others. Some stayed for a long time, others came and left quickly, but I felt them all just the same.

As I looked at my father’s body, I felt relief. My problems were over. He was gone, and all my problems had gone with him. Even Mom seemed happy. She was no longer trapped. I didn’t have to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable when I visited. I no longer needed to worry about what he would do next. It felt so good, so peaceful, so…wrong.

Tomorrow: Lost time – Part IX

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Written by Paul Jenkins
Paul Jenkins is lead pastor of The Gathering, a community church located in beautiful downtown Albemarle, North Carolina. He's the author of God is My Air Traffic Controller and My Name's Not Lou. Paul is passionate about his wife, his 3 children, running, reading, coaching, leading people who are following Jesus, Swedish Fish and the Carolina Panthers.