Eight days ago my wife, Beki, and I were getting our kids ready to go see Santa. It was a Monday morning. My phone rang and I answered. I listened in disbelief as the voice on the other line explained to me that my Dad had died. He was crushed by some pipe that had fallen over on him while he was unloading his truck. I sat in the chair speechless while my wife packed our suitcases. I snapped out of it for a bit to load the van and start driving to Oklahoma. We had a twelve hour drive ahead of us, and most of the time was spent in silence. The following days were filled with visitors, hugs, conversations, and lots of tears. I busied myself with all of the details: organizing the funeral, visitation, etc. On the day of the funeral there were loads of people there. Over twelve hundred friends attended. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. My brother and I wrote some stuff down and shared it with everyone there. My sister stood with us. My dad was literally friends with everyone in our hometown and beyond. We had visitors from multiple cities and states, friends from Chicago, and my brother’s friends from India even made the trip.
And now it’s all over. I’m sitting here in my mom’s quiet house. My wife and son are napping. My daughter is watching cartoons. And my Dad isn’t here anymore. I don’t know how things will ever feel normal again. The shining star in this entire situation is the church. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so loved. And I’ve yet to see the Body of Christ this alive. Friends from over the past fifteen years have dropped everything to be with us. And people I barely know or don’t know at all have bent over backwards to assist my family. So to everyone who made a phone call, sent a text, shot us a Facebook message, or sent flowers I’d like to say thanks. All of you mean so much to me and my family.
We still have a long road ahead of us. So we’re clinging to the hope of the Gospel: Sin has lost it’s power and death has lost it’s sting.
much love,
brandon
