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The Day My Heart was Ripped with Joy and Pain


On this day 25 years ago, my Dad traveled to heaven.

My heart was ripped with joy and pain as I held him in my arms and ushered him into heaven. The battle he endured with ten years of cancer and Alzheimer’s was over. He was free. I was not. I will never be free of the memories he created with me during our all-too-short 28 years together.

My Daddy, my hero, the one who always said “We’re best friends, you and I. We’re just like this…”.

How would I ever be able to navigate life without him?

Rhubarb, gooseberry pie, Shredded Wheat, and tapioca pudding were some of our favorites. I can still see my dad holding a big bowl in his huge hard-working hands (quadruple batch), eating that pudding by the spoonfuls. I can still feel him handing me his wristwatch to wind in church. I can still hear his voice and see his signature wave at cars we met going down the road, counting to see how many would wave back. I can still feel myself with my young head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, striving to get my breaths in sync with his as he lay on the couch to get a moment’s rest during quick breaks from being on a bean picker or corn picker or silage cutter, harvesting or doing custom work for other farmers. We were close, Daddy and I.

I can still hear him ask me “Why do you love me?” And I’d always answer “Because you first loved me.”

We had a lot in common.

Loved God. Loved each other.

Both love people. Both love the color red.

I could go on and on. The memories are flooding my mind today. Oh, how I loved my Dad. ❤️

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