One year ago today I received a call from my sister saying my dad had passed away a few minutes earlier. He wasn't actually my birth dad. I do not remember ever calling him 'Dad', and only on a few occasions did I refer to him as my 'Dad'. He married my mom roughly 50 years ago. I was 15 at the time; the oldest of five children. Even though throughout our life we stayed on a first name basis (although he always readily acknowledge me as his son), I knew him to be my dad; a father I could always count on; and a friend beyond definition. I called him "Harry" - but he was my dad.
He had been ill for several months, actually going on a couple of years. In his last few weeks his health had become a fast downhill slide. The last several days of Hospice care was difficult to watch. In some strange sense, the call from my sister was a blessed relief knowing his suffering was over. As difficult as one year ago today was, knowing of his unwavering love for his Savior, his LORD, we could all take solace in knowing he truly had gone to a better place. Eternity, (with God the Father, Jesus the Son of God, his parents, and all the loved ones who had gone before him), was now his.
Yes, today Harry is truly in a better place.
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