Resurrection, recognition, and revelation

My father died about three years ago. As May comes around, the azaleas spring to life, and I remember my father’s passing. Just as sure as the tulips and dogwood blossom, my mind wanders back to my dad. Even when I begin to open up to these strange and wonderful stories of Easter, struggling with the notions of recognition and revelation, I think about the last few months of my father’s life.

Dad had numerous neurological and heart problems. I was in Virginia and my parents were in Florida. It was hard to be away, so my mom would alert me to the news through texts. During the downward spiral, mom texted every day, with updates. Things like: 

"Your dad slept all day today."