It’s been a year since the Lord took my dad home. And it’s been a year since I was at this spot . . . I should not have waited so long. I’m not sure why, but it was medicine for my heart to weep, play my guitar, sit and remember dad where we buried him. For family and friends who can’t make the trip, may this short clip(s) help you also to reflect and give thanks to the Lord for the life that he gave to Bud Truman.
Two clips are provided for you because of different scenery and sound quality.
At the right of my father’s body was this display provided by my church family; I thank the Lord for the prayers and acts of love that we have received – I am so blessed to have such a loving church who weeps with those who weep. Below is the clipping from the newspaper’s obituary section. My dad and I used to pick at each other over who has the correct time, since WV is Eastern and IL is Central. I would call dad up and ask, “When does WVU play today?” He’d respond, “My time”, never acknowledging that I lived in the correct time zone. You will notice that the obit refers to my dad’s time of death as “Monday, August 22.” Early, that Monday morning mom told me that dad had died at 12:06 am. When I got off the phone with mom I grinned and said to myself, “Ha – he died on my time: 11:06 pm Sunday, on the Lord’s Day – that’s my story and I’m sticking with it. Besides, he can’t argue with me about it anymore.”
But . . . what is time when you are eternally with the Lord?!
I love you dad.