A long vigil.

My father passed away on April twenty-third at about six in the morning. His fight with cancer finally is over. My brother, sister, step-mother and I help vigil over him for the last week. I spent a lot of time very quietly listening to my family. I heard several stories about my dad and my siblings even my step-siblings. I also heard the stories about trips he wanted to take with me, such as a fishing expedition to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. In most cases, dad never asked me to go or if he had it was the week before we would have had to leave. I didn't have the heart to tell my family about it. Mostly I just joined in the good memories, but I still felt the sting of the bad times. Most of all, I felt how much of a loss my dad will be to me. The priest at Saint James stated that when we come to Communion, we should bring all of ourselves to Christ. We should give our pain, and joy to him; our suffering; or gladness. We should empty our lives to the altar of the sacrifice. This both comforts me, and frightens me.