It sure is a strange feeling. Since my father passed away a few months ago, the home where I grew up in Lafayette is now empty.
I walked through it yesterday. One room at a time. It’s a strange feeling to look in the bedroom that I shared with several of my brothers for so many years.
Standing in the living room, I thought back to so many Christmas mornings, unwrapping presents in front of the Christmas tree.
In the kitchen, I thought of the countless meals that my dear mother prepared for us over the years. I thought of the sometimes lively discussions around the kitchen table. The jokes. The laughter.
In my parent’s bedroom, I thought about mom and dad, and how they poured their lives into their five sons. I thought of the many prayers that were offered up in that place.
The backyard brought back memories of family barbeques. Of playing wiffle ball with my brothers. Memories of childhood pets buried there. My father’s work room in the garage reminded me of how good he was at building and repairing things.
The Psalmist affirmed a truth for which I am thankful, “How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in harmony.” (Psalm 133:1)
But the fact remains. It sure is a strange feeling. Did I say the house was empty? Not even close. It is so full of many, many blessings and happy memories that will be with me through all of my life.