Immediately following my parents’ accident I was caught up in communication – phone calls with my mum, updates on my dad’s CaringBridge site, emails with concerned friends. When my dad died, I began a different phase of busyness as it was my family’s turn to come alongside my mum and let my sister return to her home and children.

It was an epic trip, made possible only because we were completely bathed in your prayers. God truly provided more than we could ask or think.

Now we’re back home, although my body remains convinced it’s in Dallas, not really wanting to sleep or eat on Perth time yet.

The busyness fades away. At some point I will work through all the complicated emotions of losing my father, a man who meant so much to me, as well as to many others, one whose sound advice I sought and whose good humour I so enjoyed.

Right now my struggle is to let the tears fall when they unexpectedly rise. (Grief is unpredictable – I can’t manufacture tears any more than I can forecast when they will arrive.) I have been fighting the surprising tears since I returned to Perth because I want to just get on with life. Tears are inconvenient – I find I usually don’t want to pause what I’m doing to explore grief and sadness right then.

It’s easier to pretend the tears aren’t there. But they are. The pain is raw and real.

So I resolve to let the tears come. I will not numb or distract myself from the pain but embrace and experience it, come through and become stronger for it. And I will trespass a little longer on your patience while I get back into blogging and commenting.