Around this time last year on this day, we sat at the dinner table for what would be our last Sunday dinner with my Daddy. Of course, I cannot remember the first one because Sunday dinners were a staple in my childhood home. It was not uncommon for my parents to come dine with our family of five in my adult home or for all seven of us to eat at restaurant. We did so many things together throughout the week and Sunday was a natural extension of our closeness.
That last Sunday, we did what we always did.
We gathered around the table after worshiping.
We prayed.
We broke bread.
We laughed.
We made memories.
We are less than two weeks from the one year marker of the day he transitioned to paradise. I’m sure I will be flooded with lots of “lasts” as it approaches. I’m trying not to anticipate how I will feel on that day or what I will do. Lots of uncertainty.
But this one thing I do know: I am grateful for all the “lasts” that I am able to recall, but I am MORE grateful for the “firsts” and countless other times of the thousands of things we shared as a family with him, the least of which was Sunday dinners. Boy, did my daddy love to eat!
I had a good, good father and the joy he brought me carries me daily.
That last Sunday, we did what we always did.
We gathered around the table after worshiping.
We prayed.
We broke bread.
We laughed.
We made memories.
We are less than two weeks from the one year marker of the day he transitioned to paradise. I’m sure I will be flooded with lots of “lasts” as it approaches. I’m trying not to anticipate how I will feel on that day or what I will do. Lots of uncertainty.
But this one thing I do know: I am grateful for all the “lasts” that I am able to recall, but I am MORE grateful for the “firsts” and countless other times of the thousands of things we shared as a family with him, the least of which was Sunday dinners. Boy, did my daddy love to eat!
I had a good, good father and the joy he brought me carries me daily.
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