On Sunday, I will stand up in front of a crowd of family, friends, acquaintances and people I've never met before and talk about my Dad.
I've been thinking and praying about these words for weeks, but honestly, I've been thinking and praying about these words for four years. Call it a hunch, call it facing reality, call it whatever you need, but I've been preparing for this day for awhile.
The last few weeks, as I have driven to work and driven home, I've been using the drive to talk out loud. In the days when I was occasionally called upon to sermonize, I found the way I solidified my thoughts was to just start talking...if you know me at all, that's actually opposite of what one would think about my writing process...it's worked, though!
Except this time it's been harder. I have things to say...I have so much to say...but the clarity has been missing, the twist, the part that makes this go from a daughter blathering on about her father to a tribute. I couldn't grab that one thing that would make it all come together. That one thing that would have made my Dad come up, wrap his arm around my shoulders and say, "You did good, kiddo."
This morning I woke up and suddenly the missing piece had appeared. I grabbed my computer and the words started to flow...so did the tears...and since I'm being honest, the snot. I wrote and cried for two hours. Yo Momma came in a one point and I snapped at her (and apologized later) and I wrote and I cried and swiped at my nose and finally, finally, I think I have it.
Sunday is going to be really hard...but I think, at the end of the day, my Dad would throw is arm around my shoulders, pull me into his side and say, "You did good, kiddo." and really, nothing else matters.