This has been a weekend of feeling community with other believers. Of contemplating my oldest turning 5. Celebrating birthdays. Celebrating life. Contemplating the enormity of grace. Anticipating the beautiful morning that will dawn in a few hours.
In the midst of that, it's also been a weekend of sobering news. Grief.
On the way home last night from a beautiful celebration of a dear friend's birthday... sitting outside 'til late, with lit candles and laughter and live music, and sleepy, sleepy babies, I got a phone call from my brother to call my dad.
My grandpa, the one who always said, "Come here and let me hug your neck;" the one that has called me "Miss America" from the time I was a wee one, through my awkward teenage years, throughout my pregnancies, and even now; the one that loves to talk about education and politics and history; the one that travels all over the U.S. multiple times a year; the one that was still enough of a kid to have a lifetime Disney pass (he somehow got in on some deal back in the day); the one that played so many rounds of golf with my dad....
he passed away, suddenly, unexpectedly, out of the clear blue Alaskan sky, yesterday morning.
Dad was so broken when I talked to him. My dad isn't the type of guy that likes to show that side of him a whole lot. It kind of shakes you to your core, even when you are grown up and understand grown up emotions. Even when you know we are all human. It still shakes you to hear your dad so broken, so lost, so sad.
So tonight, my heart is struggling. I am grieving for the loss of Grandpa, but I'm also grieving for my dad. I cannot imagine losing a parent. I don't know exactly what he's feeling right now. I am praying for him to get some brief relief from the sorrow, some merciful rest, and most simply, some comfort.