I asked my Mom what the most challenging part of her journey right now was, and she paused for a minute and then said, “Not hearing his voice. He traveled many days throughout our life, but we talked almost every day.” I miss his voice as well— it was strong, full of power, but also tender and kind. Dad and I spoke almost every day. He loved the phone and loved to call people. He talked to his brothers every morning. I imagine they miss the sound of his voice as well.

Loss creates a hole that is like a wound that hurts every time it is touched. When Natalya left for college, there were so many holes in our home with her going. We would bring out the placemats and suddenly remember we only needed four instead of five. We would walk by her room and find it spotless. We would walk down the hall for prayer time and cuddles before bed, and the bed would be empty. But we never lost Natalya’s voice. It would come through crystalline and whole over the phone as we checked in each day.

Loss with Dad has been a more profound disconnect. The silence is overwhelming at times. But I have been delightfully surprised to hear his voice in my spirit—a whisper he loves me, that all will be ok, and that God is near as he cheers me on. This assurance of his voice has been a complete gift and comfort. I know he is coaching me up in heaven, encouraging me with all the saints to run this race well and finish strong.

“Therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out of us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” – Hebrews 12: 1-2a

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