Brothers and sisters together, hushed tones, hymns at the bedside, words whispered, approaching death, dark of night, last breaths, silent tears, goodbye tears; our daddy slips away. Body taken. A halting realization: we will never hear that “daddy” voice again. Memories are all at once swept into the past; no more sweet moments are given for the future (in this life). His touch, his voice, his presence gone. One hour there, the next begging to hear, to hug, to see, to talk to again. A body once full of life and personality, breath, and identity, the next minute empty and cold. Death. …
Life Coming to Dead People: Advent Thoughts for Christmas
