Kicking and Screaming

That's me, right there in that old photograph, kicking and screaming because I wanted to go swimming. That's my dad, the man with the smile as he gently tries to put my shoes back on and take me where I don't want to go.

I'm kicking and screaming again, after all these years.

My dad passed away on January 3, 2013 after a 13 year battle with cancer that left his body with literally no immune system.  He gave it a valiant effort, but in the end, the fight was just too large and his body just too weak.

I boarded a plane on January 2 to fly across the country to be by his side in his last days.  I'd never been down that road before, that road that ends with losing a parent, and I found myself kicking and screaming as I was being dragged down it against my will.

The days that followed are nothing but a blur now.  I'm back at home after twelve days, feeling like I'm slogging through mud.  I'm trying to decide which road to go down now.  How does one go down any road when their world is no longer the same?  I'm kicking and screaming yet again, at the thought of carrying on with the tasks of every day life that seem insurmountable right now.  How will I do it?  Hopefully with grace and perseverance, as was modeled by my dad, one day at a time.

In the meantime, please know that one day soon I'll be back to posting on a regular basis.  For now, please keep me in your prayers.

Pam