Precious daughter,

I’m having a hard time thinking about work today.  Fact is, I’m struggling to think about anything that that I’m supposed to be doing. Trying to concentrate on the program that I should be writing is like trying to catch the wind.  There’s always a lot going on, stuff that we get swept up in as we run about in our ordinary lives and today’s no different.  Yet it is different. It’s all so terribly wrong. I’m just so sad, and it’s impossible to focus. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” (Eccl 1:2 – NIV) So say’s Solomon. I know how he feels.

So much of what I’m supposed to be doing takes up so much time yet now I can’t help be wonder about it all. I build software that makes pipelines safer, big deal. I tell myself that customers use my tools to make their networks safer. People in proximity to those lines are safer because of the work that guys like me do and I’m glad for that. But right now, in this moment, I feel so helpless.

I feel the emotion swelling up inside of me again. I’ve learned that in the next few minutes or hours that it will boil over and that once again I’ll find myself sobbing because you’re not with me. I hate this. On the one hand I wish I could move past it, but on the other, I’d rather not…at least, not yet. God knows I miss you so much. There are these songs on the radio that used to drive me nuts because they were stupid, so corny, or just lame. Now when I hear them I rush to turn it off. I don’t want to hear about some other dad and the time that he spends (or doesn’t spend) with his daughter. I don’t get that chance and it’s killing me inside…there goes those tears.

I breathe heavily and I hold my face and close my eyes and there you are. I see you in my arms just moments after they have brought you to me in the hospital. I know you’re lifeless and that you’ve gone home to Jesus, but I cling to you. I open my eyes and realize that I should have held you longer because now you’re gone and my arms are empty. This is such a horrible pain and just because I’m the dad, I’m not the one that people think to console. I’m supposed to be the rock. Right now, I don’t feel like a rock.

I cling to my faith because it alone offers hope. I hold onto your momma and your brothers because they are the reason I’m still here. Not the work that I do or the money that God provides through my profession, but they alone give me reason to carry on. The weight is so heavy right now and it presses on me from all sides. “Curse God and die” suggest some (Job 2:9). I’ll not give them the pleasure. There’s a race to run and I choose today to die to self and live for God.

See you soon sweet Kyleigh. I love you,

~Daddy