December 29

December 29 will never again be just another day.

It is the day that I woke up to the phone call of "Come to UCLA right away. The ICU doctors want to see you."

It is the day that I heard the words "there is nothing more we can do."

It is the day that I told my children that I was leaving to cheer their Papa onto heaven.

It is the day that my husband was put in the awkward position of deciding what time to remove my Dad from life support.

It is the day that I saw my dad's pulse increase each time I whispered in his ear that he was a great Papa & Dad, and felt the squeeze of his hand.

It is the day that my hope was extinguished of seeing my Dad live his life here on earth as a new Christian.

It is the day that I felt the Holy Spirit's, power, love and mercy, in a small cramped ICU room, hover over our family as my sisters and I read scripture out loud to him.

It is the day that I laid my head on my Dad's shoulder, and told him how awesome heaven was going to be.

It is the day that I asked my Dad to tell Jesus that I loved him and to give him a hug for me.

It is the day I felt so proud for how hard my Dad fought to stay alive.

It is the day I experienced the most conflicting feelings of joy for my Dad's salvation, and anger towards God for taking my my Dad from me.

It is the day that I started having severe pre-labor contractions in my 7 month of pregnancy.

It is the day that my Dad left this earth.

But not forever.

And for that hope, I praise God.