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