I can remember vividly February 25, 2010… a year ago to this very date. I had recently decided to relinquish my ties with my old job, I was battling over my health insurance coverage, and debating on my next step. I sat at the breakfast table with my mom & dad and just wept. My tears were from a very, very deep place. They came from place of confusion, hurt, and misdirection. I simply did not know what God wanted me to do. After years of being that “somebody” to so many people, I was now the person that needed somebody. I can still feel my father’s hand on my shoulder assuring me that it was going to get better. I can hear his booming voice telling me that I just needed to keep believing. I looked in my father’s eyes and saw years of holding on to God’s promises. I saw a man so full of faith that it frightened me. I saw a man that held God to His every word and boldly approached the throne. I saw a man that knew that I was going to be ok as long as I kept holding on to what God said and what I had been taught. I was looking at a man that knew on February 26, 2010, that he would suffer a massive stroke and would never return to us.
You see, it took me a whole year to even write this. I can vividly remember everything about that day. My dad’s voice, his phone ringing, the TV being loud, making him a smoothie, him hugging me and saying “I love you”, him looking me directly in the eyes. Something about that day still shakes me to the core. The last day I would ever interact with one of my verfy best friends, confidant, and spiritual advisor, and Man of God. My dad was the type of man to love without limits. He wasn’t afraid to cry, show emotion, or let you know when he was hurting. He certainly lived every moment like it was his last. On this day, he knew that February 26, 2010 would be his last normal day on earth. I remember my phone coming alive with his ringer and his voice being slurred saying, “help…home… help”. As I helplessly asked him what was wrong, all his brain would allow to come out was “serious, home…help…my heart…”. My entire life came to a halt. My worst nightmare was my current reality. I couldn’t keep my composure My mom & I were 20minutes away from the house and couldn’t make it to him in time. I had to call the fire rescue to break in the house to get him. The remains of the broken door would be symbolic of my broken heart that still remains. It would be symbolic of our broken family structure. Symbolic of the broken pieces that would remain of our lives that we would have to find a way to put back together. The shattered pieces that would now belong to us forever. My best friend was taken from me in an instant and would never, ever return.
The devastation of losing a family member is something that is simply unexplainable. Losing the person who was ½ of reason why I was in earth was a tough reality to grasp. The pain of moving forward with life often halts me from flying. Feels like I have gorgeous wings that have been clipped. Having all the equipment to fly but somehow finding comfort in staying on the ground. Day by day I have been less and less afraid to fly high, but it’s the hardest trial I have ever had to face. When you can’t hear your biggest fan cheering in the stands, it feels like the game isn’t worth playing. I can still hear him saying “kill ‘em baby girl” whenever I would get dressed up to go speak or merely hang out with my friends. He always knew that I would one day have to fly without him. Wish it were just that easy to do.
While I know I will never be with him physically on earth again, his spirit lives on forever. Whether it is through his innovations, his sermons, his businesses, his jokes, through my mom & sisters, he will forever be a part of us. I can still hear him faintly when I find quiet moments to remember. My #1 fan now has the best seat in the house, in Heaven. He can now see it all (that’s pretty scary…lol). At this point, it’s all about moving toward his dream for me to be great and to make this grandson named Michael Anthony that we each promised we would give him. Lol. Well, that is after I marry this man that he kept talking about. My daddy was a true man of God. He described my husband to a T. Now if I could only meet (and marry) this man who remains a fictitious character at this point. (That’s a totally different blog post, so let me save that discussion before I go OFF!)
As I move forward with everything I have, I know that I have to rightfully claim my place in life. It would be a disservice to his memory and ultimately disrespecting God. I know that I need to cry and get through it, but I must steadily move. The thing I have learned about life is that it truly goes on. No matter the circumstances. The sun rises at its scheduled time and sets just the same. People die, more are born, and the cycle continues. People cry, laugh, get angry and get sad. Life moves forward with or without us. As I sit here a year later, a piece of me is still missing but I know I am going to be ok. God promised I would be.
What would you do if the yesterdays you possessed with someone would be all you had? What if you knew the last moment you shared with them would be your last moment you would ever share? I wish I knew. Maybe I would have said more, or even less, but I would have tried to capture everything I could and hold it all forever. At this juncture in life, I can’t live in what I thought yesterday should of possessed, I can only move on to make this very moment greater than the one before. Once we all have the courage to let those yesterdays go, we can maximize the tomorrows that will come.
Realizing My Yesterdays Are Gone And My Tomorrows Aren't Promised....