The last time I wrote a “One Month” post, we were joyfully celebrating having Dumpling in our arms.  Today, another month has passed.  But it’s been filled with heartache and mourning.  Although I have found some joy again and do delight in my children, family, and friends, there isn’t a minute that goes by that I don’t ache because of his devastating loss.

Today, it’s been a month since I was forced to say goodbye to my Daddy.  A month since the carpet was pulled out from underneath of me.  A month since my brother called me at 9:30am to tell me my Daddy wasn’t breathing and the paramedics were working on him.  A month since I dropped everything to rush to my dad’s house, including the baking cookies in the oven after I turned it off.  A month since I pulled into his court filled with so many emergency vehicles it made my head spin.  A month since my brother stood in the doorway of my Daddy’s house while I ran to him, shaking his head no, telling me it was too late.  A month since my brothers and I stood in the front yard, in the rain, literally holding each other up and sobbing, realizing one of our greatest fears was now a reality.  A month since my four children sat in the car, looking on as I found out my Daddy was no longer here.  A month since I had to call my mom on the phone, telling her she needed to pull over first.  A month since I learned about the devastating details of the minutes leading up to the paramedics’ arrival.  A month since I had to call a funeral home to take away my Daddy.  A month since we sat around my Daddy’s house, waiting for them to arrive.  A month since I made phone calls to family and friends to deliver the unreal news.  A month since my brothers and I had to go into my Daddy’s closet to choose clothes for him to wear.  A month since we had to make decisions about a casket, service arrangements, hymns, flowers, food, and the many other choices that I didn’t want to make.  A month since we had to go through my Daddy’s things to find needed documents, which felt like such an invasion of privacy.  A month since my life turned upside down.

To say that this has been difficult is an understatement.  In addition to losing my Daddy and best friend so suddenly and unexpectedly, we had just brought Dumpling home exactly 3 weeks earlier.  As my fellow adoptive parent friends know, that alone is a lot.  Putting those two events together within weeks of each other is overwhelming.  Utterly overwhelming.  Cocooning, or even trying to do attachment parenting while at a funeral home, or when you are the saddest you’ve ever been in your life, or when it feels like there are a million arrangements that need to be made … it’s impossible to do well.  I still haven’t reinserted myself into life completely because it’s just too hard to pull everyone together.  Although there are certainly moments of normalcy, and I can see the joy in situations, I do not feel anything like normal.  And without my Daddy here to do it with me, I find it difficult to celebrate anything.

My Daddy videoed as we came out of baggage claim when we came home with Dumpling and he drove us home from the airport that night.  I have his voice recorded on that video and I listen to it over and over.  It’s what I have left, so I hold onto it.  I spliced the clips of him talking into a smaller 30 second video so I can listen to just him when I need to.  His last words on that video?

“Say goodbye, Nicole.”

Goodbye, Daddy.  For now.  I love you more than earthly words can say.

I will continue to live my life and make him proud.  And I can’t wait for the day I see him again and get to tell him all about it.  God is sovereign and He promises to make beauty from these ashes.