I felt nervous as the storm intensified. Would we make it home? I felt Dad’s hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let a little rain scare you.” He grabbed his big golf umbrella and walked us out on the tarmac. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.” Up the stairs I went, holding my toddler. For some unknown reason I stopped, holding up the line. There he was in the window, waving. Got home after a long flight. The next day my daddy died unexpectedly. I went out and stood in the rain, where no one could see my tears.
Deborah Bergstrom/writer Deede Strom. Love, Family, Heartache. A keeper of a Big Heart. Loves to paint, read, and recreate. Family above all.