It was a year ago today that my father died suddenly of a heart attack. He was at home with my mom and laid down to take a nap and just didn’t wake up. There’s more to the story but that’s all I’m going to share here. It just seems hard to believe that it has already been a whole year.

My kids still talk about him from time to time. We laugh about things he said or did. I used to feel guilty that it seemed to easy to just go on with life. I don’t really feel that way now. It was good for me to get back into life, cry and laugh and hug my kids. It’s okay to feel all those feelings, good and not-so-good. They are all part of the healing.

There are things I miss. I will never have him show up at my door when I called with a computer problem, offering to fix my wayward machine. I miss his steady rhythm of life and the way nothing really shook him. I miss the smell of his cologne when I would give him a hug. His sense of humor was dry and sharp–just my style. I’m sad that I can’t call him for advice, have him there at life’s milestones or just sit and talk.

My dad was the strong, silent type. He didn’t say much, so when he did, you wanted to listen. There’s so much I took for granted and now he’s gone and I’ll never get that back. But what I can do now is live every day like it may be my last. I’ll try to hold my tongue but not leave the good stuff unsaid. I’ll believe in people more and be less focused on what I can get.

But more than that, I’ll work to look more like my Heavenly Father–fruit of the Spirit abounding and compassion overflowing. I’ll work hard to be my Father’s daughter. I want Him to be proud.