Being in the presence of my dad dying taught me reverence for the holy place in which he lay.
Prayers were answered. Blessings were given. Peace was felt.
For days we sat around his bed. My aunt seeing his hands at his side crossed them across his belly. She left him.
When my mom returned a moment later, his eyes, which he had not opened for 3 days, gazed up to the heavens.
He was gone, yet I didn’t feel alone.
For an hour we sat there. I looked over to my dad’s body that lay so still. The stillness permeated the room with what could only be described as peace. I didn’t want that feeling to end. I didn’t want to leave the room. I didn’t want them to come take him, afraid the feeling would go with him. It didn’t.
It left the room when I did and is still with me now. He is still with me now. Where I stand is holy ground, for the peace of God is with me, his angels are looking over me and my dad can’t be too far away… unless he is off on an adventure. I sure hope so!