Today would be my Pops' 75th birthday. Pops passed away eleven days after his 74th birthday; it's been almost a year. I miss him everyday. Pops and I were buddies. Now, when I was growing up, he was Pops, the disciplinarian, the authoritarian, the father that fathers should be. However, as I grew into my "own man", we became pretty good buddies. It is amazing that the older I got, the smarter he became.
Pops was never into sports. He grew up on a farm, plowing with mules, working in the cotton fields; he never had time for sports. I came along and loved sports, which Pops didn't understand but accepted. He grew to love baseball, especially the Atlanta Braves. He and I had a lot of conversations about baseball, and about life, while working, fishing, just sitting on the porch. I miss him.
Today's word is one I have probably used before but it reminds me that I will see Pops again. John 16:22, NLT, reads, "So you have sorrow now, but I will see you again; then you will rejoice, and no one can rob you of that joy."
Losing someone you love to death is painful. There are no words to describe it; there is no magic bullet to fix it. But knowing that I will see Pops again makes his passing a little easier. One day we will sit around again and talk about baseball on the porch of our Father's house. Happy Birthday Pops! I love you!
Be Blessed,
Mickey T
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