I miss my dad.
As surgery approached, and fear rose within me, I missed him.
As I laid in my hospital bed, and visitors came and went, I missed him.
And now, as I gain my strength, and heal from my surgery, I miss my dad.
As my tomatoes ripen and I harvest herbs, as my late summer flowers bloom and bloom, I miss my dad.
As the nights slowly cool, and I know fall is coming with the changing of the leaves, my favorite season, the most beautiful to my eye, which he also loved, and loved to share with people, I miss him.
I miss asking him for prayer.
I miss telling him little details about my life.
I miss sitting together, watching Zachary and Ethan play.
I miss the sound of his voice affirming me.
I miss the touch of his rough hands.
I miss his laughter as he would tell of his trips.
I miss my dad.
1 comment:
Beautiful. My heart echoes your words.
Love, Lisa
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