365 breaths 2013 | Day 34

9 years ago today, 

a 14 year old me ran, out into the snow and yelled into the darkness "Daddy!"
and fell down onto my knees wondering if this was a nightmare or 

if somehow my world really had literally broken all around me.

Just the weekend before, my Dad had watched Armageddon with me, 

and I had cried as I watched that woman say goodbye forever to her Daddy. 

How painful it would be to lose your hope and your safety, your protector, 

and as I hugged him goodbye the next morning I had no idea I would have to do what she did.

I still remember, . . . .

his bear hugs, his warmth, his smell, his laugh.

I picture my four children in his arms,
I picture our family complete.

But the world took him on January 31st, 

and three days later a police officer came to our door.
I heard voices out in the living room, 

Why was Henry awake?
Who came to our house?
My Grandma opened my door,
"Leah can you come out here please?"
And then Henry was on the couch, crying.
And my Grandpa had a blank stare as he sat in his chair...
I sat down on the couch...
And I heard the most horrible words in the world:
"Your father's dead."

In my room, "Stairway to Heaven" was on the radio -- and I turned it off,
mad that this was my world now...
I lit a candle and set it on our doorstep, 

a light to tell the world that our hearts were lost tonight.
You see, my Dad was everything to us, everything.
And he was gone.
All night I spent staring into the sky, at a bright shining star,
listening to "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica on repeat.

I woke up in the morning ready to start my day,
headed to the shower and I heard my Grandma on the phone

"I'm sorry to have to tell you, but Henry passed away".
Oh.
Now I remember.
It's like being told for the first time all over again,
you remember, 

he is dead. Never coming back.
During my sleep I had forgotten...
and this went on for a month or more until I hung up a picture of him and I,

at the foot of my bed,

to remind myself every morning what was never coming back. 

Valentines Day, 2004,
I said goodbye to my Daddy,
closed his Chevy colored casket while Metallica played

and tears fell. 

For years I searched for love and a Daddy to protect me.
And it wasn't until I met my husband that I found a Daddy, 

but his name was Abba.
His name is God.

His Spirit swept in and rescued  my heart.

And now the peace of a life cut short is bittersweet.
I will always wish he was here with us,
but my heart is mended by my Savior.
The sting is still there, 

when my son is in love with vroom vrooms and his 

grandpa isn't there to give him his first ride..
and so much more.

So, Daddy, I love you and I hope to see you again someday, 

I can only have hope you've reached a glorious place made for you.
And Abba God, (Daddy Father), thank you for mending my heart, 

and stopping the longing that no man could've filled up.
Thank you for bringing me peace and love that will NEVER run out on me.