When I was ten years old, my dad learned to fly. He did countless take-offs and landings, solos, flew cross country, took tests, and finally, he was a pilot. The thrilling part to me was that we would get to go up with him….very soon! I trusted him completely; after all, he was my dad, and I was always safe with my dad. All we needed was the perfect day for our first flight as a family. Finally, that day came. Dad said, “It’s a great day to go flying!” And off we went, soaring off into the blue skies in our little Cessna four-seater. It was wonderful. 🙂
It has now been ten unbelievably hard and sad days since my amazing dad has flown away into heaven and God’s arms. I don’t ever think I will stop missing him, wanting to talk to him, ask him a question, give him a big hug. But I also know that where he is, there is no more crying, no more pain, and beauty beyond imagining as far as the eye can see. And when I get there one day, he will be there, waiting, with Jesus, and he will say, “It’s a great day to go flying!” And off we’ll go, and it will be wonderful. I love you, Dad. Love, Lisa
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