Ironic, I write about darkness before light, and four days later a darkness neither of us have ever experienced slips into our life.
After three weeks of struggling in the hospital, and complication after complication, Daniel's father passed away Thursday evening. Daniel was able to be at his father's bedside, next to his mother and sister, and they are all thankful they could say good-bye in such a quiet, intimate way. Yet, there is still much sadness.
There are now a lot of firsts, that none of us were prepared for. This morning as we were waking up Daniel whispered, "My first weekend of football without my dad." They loved sports. They loved enjoying sports together.
We watched old family videos last night, which did help lighten everyone's spirits as we laughed hilariously at the style of the late 80s, early 90s, and the lack of athletic prowness eight-year-old Daniel displayed when he attempted to kick a football one Christmas morning.
Still even this morning, Daniel went to borrow a pair of socks from his dad, and couldn't help but tear up. They were socks he would never wear again.
The final-ness of death cuts so sharply. During one of our pre-marital counseling sessions one of our pastors told us that some day we would have to help the other bury our parents. Neither of us ever thought it would be so soon. We ache for the life that is now absent-- a life, even, that still seemed to have years to live. For the wife that is left without a husband, for the son who no longer has a father, and the daughter without a daddy. For the beautiful, happy granddaughter who only knew her grandpa as a newborn, and all the others who will never know him. We ache with the memories that are left, and the memories he will not be a physical part of.