Four weeks ago today, I preached my father's funeral. It was Father's Day. In a strange irony, I felt it was a fitting way to say good-bye to a man I loved and admired so deeply.
I had unconsciously expected the grief to taper off by now. I never actually said as much, but still, it was an expectation I harbored in my heart. After nearly a month, I should be moving on, right? He's gone, so I just need to let him go, right? I'm a grown man, after all, and I have to move on. That's what he would want me to do, right?
Unfortunately, things haven't turned out the way I had hoped. I woke up today, four weeks after his funeral, and hit a huge brick wall of sadness. As my mom used to say, "I fell all to pieces." The strange thing about it is this; I felt like I really turned a corner on this grief journey just four days ago. FULL POST