Thursday, October 11, 2012

Fears & Tears....

I have never really spoken a lot about my child hood and it's not because I am secretive, or because I didn't have a great time growing up... because I did... I was raised in an amazing home even tho there were a few bumps along the way, but who doesn't have trials right?

It's been on my heart this week to write about my childhood because of our sweet blogger friend Julee who lost her husband on Saturday and beautiful little Preslee who lost her daddy

On December 26th, 1991 I lost my dad.
I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was the day after Christmas and my mom, brother and I were going to go shop the after Christmas sales (like we did every year).. and my dad said he didn't want to go. He wasn't feeling well. So after my parents talked about it we decided to stay home. My dad told my mom that he didn't feel weel, so my mom made a phone call to her friend Rayette who was a nurse at a local ER. Rayette wanted to send an ambulance out but my mom told her it would be quicker to just drive my dad in since we lived way out in the country. My dad, who never ever wanted to go to the doctor, went out to my parents van and started it up and got in the back seat. For him to initiate the starting of the car and being ready to go was pretty huge... so my mom knew it was time to go. I was 7 at the time, and my brother was 9. We loaded up in the van and were on our way. I was in the back seat next to my dad, my brother in the middle seat and my mom driving.

My dad looked sick, like he had the bad flu or something. As we passed my brother and I's elementry school, he took 3 big gasps for air and then fell down under the seat my brother was sitting in. My mom knew something was bad because she pulled over and her and my brother started CPR on him, as well as they could. She got back in the driver seat and raced to the hospital and it took 7 doctors to get him out and on the gurney.

After at least 45 minutes of working on him, he was gone. I remember the doctor telling my mom, I remember my uncle throwing his sunglasses accross the Hospital lawn, and I remember my grandma screaming "no, no, no". It was in that moment that I knew life wouldn't ever be the same. All too much for a 7 year old to have to endure.

Why am I telling you this story?

Because as much hard times that our family went through.... there were blessings that came. There were times that I would walk past my mom's room and she would be crying, or when it was time to pack up my dad's things she would brush a tear away, or even still to this day when June 16th rolls around I think about their wedding anniversary, or his birthday on November 11th, and always the day after Christmas when it was his time to go.

I used to always wonder why me? Why did MY dad get taken away from me? What did I do wrong?
The answer is.... Why me? Because God knew that as much as I hurt, I would also see an end in sight. He knew that I could grow up without that father in my life... What did I do wrong? I didn't do anything wrong. I was given the privilage to be my dad's daughter for 7 years, maybe in my eyes it was short but in God's eyes it was the perfect amount of time.

Death is not fun.... it's not something I enjoy going through, but from my dad's death 3 miracles came into my life. My second dad, who you hear about here... Chris. He married my mom when I was 8 1/2 and tho the first 5-6 years were rough, he endured my snotty attitude and selfish ways and loved my mom more than I ever thought possible. He is my dad through and through... he has black hair, I have blonde. He has dark eyes I have blue.... no, we look nothing alike and we don't even have the same blood... but he's my dad. My little brother and sister are also blessings.... if my dad wouldn't have died, these 3 amazing people wouldn't be in my life.

My dad has been gone for almost 21 years and I remember it like it was yesterday. There is not a day goes by where I don't think of him... and as the memories start to fade away a little bit at a time, I know I will always have a piece of him in me.... He gave me life.

So... no, death is not fun... it never will be. But there will be a time when it will get a little easier to wake up and start living again.


  1. Randi, this sweet, sweet post brought tears to my eyes. No wonder Christmas isn't your most favorite season. I can't imagine what you must have gone through losing your father at such a young age. But, what I can tell you is that you are amazing! Your positive attitude and willingness to share your story to hopefully help others is so inspiring! I just know that someone will find great comfort in the words that you've written today. You're right - death is hard. It will never be easy. But faith brings a sense of peace for those of us who rely on God, and we can rest a little more easily knowing that we will see our loved ones again one day. Thank you so much for sharing your heart today! I feel like I def know you a little bit better after reading this post:)

  2. WOW, what a hard post to read. I can only imagine how hard it was to write. Sending you a huge hug!


  3. My father passed away around Christmastime in 1991, as well. I was 3 and my sister was 5. It takes a strong person to endure that at such a young age and an even stronger one to share your feelings with the world.

  4. Thanks for sharing your story. I personally have not experienced death of a loved one but I fear it as I know some day it will happen. Your story lets me know that it's possible to move on from something so heart breaking.