Yesterday was my Dad's 65th death anniversary. He was 38 and I was 3 when he was tragically killed in a work-related accident. He left for work early Thursday morning and never came home again. He was inspecting a multi-ton furnace door when it came loose and began to fall. He ran but tripped and was crushed from the waist down. In 1948 hospitals could only do so much for these types of injuries. Dad died three days later. My Mom was widowed; my brother and I, orphaned. Why?
I've asked myself why for the past 65 years. Why did a man who was so caring, loving and funny die in the prime of his life? Why did a woman who was a terrific wife and mother have to shoulder such an unbearable loss? Why did two children, ages 3 & 5 have to become fatherless so young? Why did the lives of this happy little family have to change so dramatically for the worse?
And why after all this time is his dying so fresh in my mind and so painful to my heart even today?
I have never been able to find the answers to the why of it. You'd think that after 65 years I might stop asking why and just be resigned to my Dad's passing. I will never stop wanting to know why, but the answer unfortunately will never come. Of that I'm sure.
Over the years I've often taken my query to the top asking God to explain why my Dad had to die! Even if He knows, He's not talking!