Dad does not fit in a box.

Today I am grumpy.  Today I do not like this new normal.  It is not fun, and it is also not fun when they bring your "Dad" home in a box the size of my study bible.  I mean, I know my Dad got skinny, but last I checked he wasn't that small.  So dear man who called this box in a white gift bag "my Dad", YOU SUCK.  That is not my Dad, and you do not have the rights to call it my Dad.
That box cannot tell me he loves me, hold me as I cry, rub my feet which are blistered from my new fall boots.  That box cannot read the Night Before Christmas to me, watch Everybody Loves Raymond, laugh at Dwight and Andy on the office, or play Sequence with me.  That box cannot grill some mean veggies for me, eat cookies n cream ice cream like its his job, sip on diet 7up with me.
That box cannot walk me down the aisle when I get married or cheer on Tayman at his graduation or coach our future kids in sports.
So NO.  That box is not my Dad.

But the sun peering through the clouds this morning looking oh so heavenly might be, depending on the hour you ask me today because my emotions change by the hour.

2 Corinthians 4:17

New Living Translation (NLT)

¹⁷ For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever!

#Let'shopetheydontlastlong