It all started when I decided to drop some items off at the thrift store. And for some reason I always drive to the one in Ooltewah, like twenty minutes away from my house... when I have a drop off location literally at the end of my street. I don't know why I do that.
Anyway, I was driving around Ooltewah, and out of nowhere I decided to stop by the cemetery to visit my dad's grave.
Now, the part you all need to know is that I haven't visited my dad's grave in ten and a half years. The last time I was there was my 13th birthday. We had family in from out of town and they all wanted to stop by the cemetery before they left. Looking back, I get it. But at the time, I was pretty upset about it. And I made a decision to never go back on anyone else's terms.
I rarely talk about my dad. Let alone write about him and post it on the internet. But like I said, this is a big day.
There have been several occasions over the last ten and a half years that have prompted me to visit the grave site. I thought about going when I graduated high school or before I left for college. I thought about going when I got engaged. I thought about going when I got unengaged. But I never felt like I was ready, or something. And the longer I went without going, the harder it became to go.
And I don't even know why today was different. I was driving around and I just kind of wondered if I remembered where it was. I hadn't been there in so long, and I had never driven there before, so I didn't even really expect to find it. But I did. Somehow I remembered exactly where it was. And there was no turning back.
When I first got there, I just sat on the ground for a few minutes. I didn't know what to do; I just felt kind of weird about it.
So I tried talking. If there's one thing I've wanted for the last 14 (almost) years, it's to talk to my dad. Especially as I've gotten older, I've just wanted to hear his opinions, to know what his direction would be in my life. To hear his advice.
The fact is, I would be a completely different person if my dad had lived. I don't understand fully what that means, and I try not to think about it too often, because I've found that it doesn't do any good. But still, I have come to terms with its truth, and it's a hard fact to deal with.
So, for about 45 minutes, I tried to muster about 14 years worth of words. To tell him I'm sorry for some of the choices I've made in the past. To tell him what I hope for the future. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
I'm not exactly sure how all of this works. I don't know what, if anything, God allows those in Heaven to know about those they leave behind. I have a feeling that my dad is aware of at least some aspects of the life of his family, but that's just a feeling; I have no idea if it's true. But I have to admit, there was a certain element of healing associated with telling my dad what I wanted him to know.
When I had said all I needed to say, I still didn't want to leave. But unfortunately, I didn't have the time to just sit at the cemetery all day. So I got up and said the only thing I could think of to say: "Soon, Dad. I think it will be soon."
I have this feeling, (again, just a feeling), that Christ will be calling His Church home soon. That all believers, and that my family, will be reunited soon. I don't know that that's true; but I really hope it is.
I don't know when I'll be going back to my dad's grave site. I don't have any plans regarding that. But I'm glad I went. And I'm glad that one day, whether soon or not, we will be reunited.
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