It’s been a little over a week since he was called home. I can’t say that it’s gotten easier, or that I am more leaned into a place of acceptance. There’ll probably always be that twinge of loss, and the yearning for more time. However, the most beautiful thing about this hard place is the Father’s love. I see it everywhere, and most tangibly in the sweet faces of his wife and children. I hear it in her calm and soothing voice as she repeatedly says it is well. I feel it in the embrace of his children, and the support from near and far. In the unexpected His goodness abounds, a torrential rain of unexplainable comfort and peace. It is in these moments that I am deeply grateful for a life anchored in Christ. To be able to nestle into the fortifying arms of love with my tear stained face, and settle into stillness even as my heart aches. I am enjoying the heart warming sounds of laughter in between arduous conversations, as we reflect on his life and look ahead to the future. I am talking to my Father more, and as written in His word, praising Him with every breath |Psalm 150:6|.