Ten years ago on Easter morning I woke to a phone call. It was my sweet stepmom. She called to tell me he was gone. My daddy had died during the night.
He was and is at peace.
I miss him. I wish he had known how great my kids turned out. I wish he could have seen the boys get their eagle badges. I wish he could have held my grandchildren. I wish I could call him when I need a laugh or a hug. Sometimes a girl needs her dad to say, “I know it hurts. I love you.”
But some day I will join him in heaven because of the Cross and Resurrection. Death has been overcome.
A few minutes after that phone call, I came out of my room with tear-stained face and asked one of my boys to get me a suitcase out of the attic. I went back into my room to get dressed and pack to go be with my stepmom.
When Ron went into the living room a little while later, the kids were waiting for him. Their message: whatever you did, dad, Fix It!
All they knew was mom is crying and packing. Must be dad’s fault.
We quickly sat them down and told them Granddad Bailey had died. I’m not sure but I think they were relieved. Then they were sad.
Even in his death my daddy made me smile. And gave me a great story. He loved to tell stories!