The three year mark.

   Sometimes when you are over stressed, tired, or emotionally traumatized you just have to write about it. Unfortunately I can fall under each of those, which means I am way over due when it comes to writing about it. I have tried to write these words down so many times, but nothing makes sense, I was too emotional when I tried those other times. So I will try to write it now, and hopefully you will still get the story.

In a little less than two months, there is a day that marks the worst day of my life, that day is January 29th, on that day my world fell apart, my heart was torn from within me, and I no longer understood what God was doing in my life. Many of you have heard this story, many of you were standing by me, and many more of you have yet to hear this story.

In November of 2007, my Dad (who had had long time respiratory problems) was rushed to the emergency room at our local hospital at about 10pm, this had happened before so my siblings and I stayed home expecting Mom and Dad to be back in a few hours after the nurses gave him antibiotics. Instead, about two hours later my Mom and some close family friends came home and told us that Dad was not doing well and had to stay at the hospital. At 13 it was shocking to hear that. That night I truthfully did not sleep much. Through out the next few days Dad went back and forth in being well one day and worse the next. The hospital decided to put him in an induced coma, so he would get better faster. The first time I saw him was devastating. I had never had to see him like that. I remember walking in and just standing there crying, just looking at him made my heart ache.

  Through out it all our church family and extended family was right there by us. We had tons of meals brought. And every time I went to the hospital to see Dad there would always be someone there to hold on to.

   At the end of the two weeks  Dad was coherent and able to talk to us. All I could do from not crying was hold his hand and try to talk about happy things like his new rubix cube we bought for him. It was almost as if he would drift away if I let go. I can still remember how it felt to hold his hand, it was so swollen with all the meds in him. That was another thing that crushed me.

  In the first week of December they let Dad come home, he wasn't able to work much, but he was still able to spend Christmas with us. My Dad was a servant to all and he loved it! That Christmas we had an elderly woman come over and spend Christmas with us. I am always amazed at how much he gave to others and took so little back. He was a true deacon.

  We were happy for a while after that. We had a normal simple Christmas. After that Shock I spent more and more time with Dad. I started to really value going with him every Thursday to go and clean pools.  I asked him questions about things I thought were important. It was almost like I knew what was coming. Truthfully there was a quiet voice in my head getting me ready for what was to come.

   All of this was so strange to me then, all the nightmares I had been having were coming to life. At dinner time on the 24th of January my Mom got a call from my younger sister saying that Dad was having a really bad Asthma attack and that 9-1-1 wasn't answering. At that time a woman walked up and they finally were able to reach 9-1-1 . The ambulance came and took Dad the the closest hospital, but at that point he had been a long time with out oxygen. My Mom and brother sped (literally) to the hospital, which was about 30 minutes away. At that point I was on my knees in the family room with my little two year old sister praying as hard as I could that God would preserve Dad's life. When my Mom got to the hospital they had told her that Dad's heart had stopped 4 times. And that is when she called some friends and asked them to bring us down to say goodbye. By the time we had got there almost all of our elders and their wives were there to greet us. And some beloved friends were there too.  We didn't have to say goodbye that night, and we were given more time to say goodbye.

  On the morning of the 29th my older and i woke up to Steven Curtis Chapman's song 'Cinderella'. We just sat there and sucked in the music trying to hold it in. At about 9am my Mom called us and said that we needed to come to the hospital. We all knew what was coming, but didn't want to believe it.

   Not much later in a small hospital room our pastor sat across from us and slowly and very gently told us that Dad had died early that morning. All I could do was cry. We all prayed and held on to each other. When I left that room my closest friends were standing there ready with open arms. And we all stood there in that dark cold hospital hallway with broken hearts and lots of tears.

   When a loved one dies suddenly you don't feel anything. You don't think, all you do is grieve. It's all you can do. Even now it is all I can do.

   We went up to say goodbye to Dad, and I sat there alone trying my hardest to say everything I always should have said and didn't, even though he couldn't hear me.

   And a few weeks later we stood on the hills at the National cemetery saying a final goodbye to my wonderful, wise, and loving father that I would never see again.

   My heart goes out to those in my position. Death is a horrible ordeal, and I don't want anyone to go through what I have gone through.

   So this is the story of the worst day of my life, my biggest life lesson, and what it is like to be in my shoes.