I started writing a piece to post on my blog this evening that would serve as a document of this process I’m continuing to work through a year and a half after my dad passed away as the result of a stage four glioblastoma brain tumor. The post was intended to include some kind of explanation of the difficult pangs of grief that continue surfacing, at seemingly random intervals, from one day to the next. But, similar to the challenge that going through boxes of his belongings (ranging from hand-written notes to hats that I’d seen him wear so often over the years) presents, trying to figure out what to do with each item, the task of trying to sort through my lingering grief in order to articulate some semblance of coherent thought is anything but a lesson in efficiency. Surely, the record of our days could be represented as a linear timeline of thoughts considered, words said, steps taken, and things done, but, unfortunately, emotions drenched in regret are relentless in their orbits and with each trip around I revisit another dark moment in the shadow of the past – a moment missed when I could have said something more or reacted differently than I did when I actually stood, inhaled, and exhaled in each particular instance. It seems, at times, that all I can do is lower my head, continuing to put one foot in front of the other in an effort to increase the distance between the past and the present and, in doing so, relieve the weight of this burden. But, the truth, I’m finding, is that, there is nothing I can do to pick up any of the foot prints I’ve left in the path behind me and, while it betrays the weight of the emotion coursing through me as I type now, I know that my faith is invested in the One who is not confined by the linearity of time and, ultimately, His grace is sufficient.