On January 27, 1995, my father was involved in a tragic accident. He had some men working at his home on a defective furnace. In the course of the morning, he decided to go to town to buy a newspaper. He always joked that he had to read the newspaper daily to see if he was in the obituary. This morning was no different.

He started his truck and then decided to get out and tell the workmen where he was going. The truck kicked into reverse, or possibly he didn’t have the gearshift totally engaged in park. We’ll never know exactly what happened. The result was that his truck backed up as he was standing at the rear of it. It pinned him against an electrical pole and crushed his hip.

Living in a rural area in southeast Georgia and in a very small town, it took a while for the ambulance to arrive. His pastor, who was also his cousin, went promptly to the scene. My dad told him, “I need the Master’s help.” And then he asked the pastor to pray for a cousin who was soon to have his leg amputated due to a blood disease.

I had started a new job just a few months prior to the accident. I was called to the front desk of the business and given the news. I promptly called the hospital and spoke with my dad.

The next day after surgery I spoke to him again. During this conversation I heard him laughing and joking with the nurses in the background. He had to end the phone call but asked, “Can you call me back in thirty minutes?”

I never spoke to him again. He was put into the Intensive Care Unit and was being monitored for his heart but the doctors insisted the outlook was good. We were quite surprised when he died two days later of a massive heart attack.

His wife told me just that morning that she did not plan to go to the hospital that day since he was doing so well. By the time I came home at lunch, there was a message on my answering machine. With certain surety of the news, I made the call that would change my life. I wailed when I heard the news that he had died. I walked the length of my living room floor and wailed.

Of course, I only had a short amount of time away from work to attend the funeral, only a week. When I returned to the workplace, it was business as usual.

Ironically, I had been telling my dad that I would fly down to see him. Having never flown in an airplane, this was a big step for me, when my husband and I did indeed fly to Georgia to see my dad one last time.

In our modern times, when can a person grieve? How can a woman who works full time and cares for a family take the time to fully part with her father?

I learned that when a parent dies, no one else on earth gives or replaces the love that a parent imparts to you. You may have meaningful relationships, very fulfilling friendships, but no one else on earth will ever love you quite like a parent.

My dad was my encourager. When the world knocked me down, he was there to tell a joke and lift me up. I often felt his humor was born of pain and struggles he’d had in his own life. He had taught me as a child to love the Lord, exalt Him in all things, and worship Him with a willing heart. He had laid the spiritual foundation, smooth and solid as a rock, which I rely upon today.

But I had a hard time letting go because I had no time, and no place to grieve. I was 1,700 miles from his family and could not visit his grave. I had to return to work full- time while caring for my family, and I was very sad inside.

One morning soon after his death, I was short-tempered with a coworker in the break room at work. I wasn’t angry with the young man; I was in emotional turmoil. During the morning break, I got into my car and drove into the country. During the drive, I released the pent up tears, which I’d had to hold inside while at work. It was a thirteen-minute cry. I returned to the workplace and resumed taking calls for technical support. I also apologized to the young coworker for my rudeness and explained that I was missing my father. He said he understood.

That spring I had more thirteen minute cries. A short drive into the country and back into town on my breaks or lunch hour allowed me to shed the needed tears. I have a theory about grieving; it is that we humans do not deal well with death because we were never created to feel it physically or emotionally. It was not in God’s master plan.

While I will always miss my dad, I understand that he did his job well when he laid the foundation for me to be happy. He introduced me to our heavenly Father. The spiritual foundation he paved has led to a strong Christian life with my family. His example of encouraging and humor are two gifts I will never forget, and that I will in turn pass on to my children and if I am so blessed, in generations to come.

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