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Losing Dad While Slowly Losing Faith…
I lost my father in 2012 to esophageal cancer, and it was the hardest ordeal ever
It has been ten years now, and I have not dreamed of my father like I did when he first passed away. I suspect, he is pain free and enjoying time with His Creator or he is in that dimension where there is no longer disease or “isms” to stress over.
Two weeks before my father passed away, I finally visited him. It has been a while since I’ve seen him because we had just lost our place and was just busy and going through it — when I saw dad though, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The robust, healthy-looking man who was always so energetic, sat in a recliner with glasses on, face was bony, arms thin and stomach protruding. All effects of the chemo treatments. I feel bad even now, because I recall walking by the den not even recognizing him until he said my name.
My husband and I sat there with him. We talked about everything. Nothing. We brought bottled waters we’ve prayed over. I remember bargaining with God the night before. Promising to love God more. To put God first. To repent immediately for anything I’ve done.
Just don’t take my father away from me.
