Friends and family sent their condolences, and I was grateful for the food and coffee people brought. I had moments when all I wanted was to be alone and hide from the world, but there were other times when I needed to be around people. At times I could cry, but then other times I hated that I couldn’t weep. I even tried to act strong in front of certain people, but then fell apart when I was near others.
Six months before he died, we went up to the cemetery above the small church we grew up in, where hours before he had rededicated his life to Christ and was water baptized. We walked those hills together and chased wild turkeys. But as I grieved after he passed, those hope-filled memories were hard to grasp hold of as so many questions and fears went through my mind. I would take long walks where I cried and grieved and yelled, and ran … and hid. I would yell, “Where are you God? My family needs You!”
