Today is the day; the third anniversary of my Father's death. It was about this time in the morning on that terrible day that his heart gave way to death. What do I find myself doing on this sleepless morning in May? Just thinking. About Father. About God. About family. Just thinking with a bit of restored hope that, though it has seemed to me these last three years that God, Himself, was dead; I have restored hope this anniversary that indeed He is alive. Maybe I am conquering those demons of despair; those murderers of hope that sap the faith of the grieving; those killers of joy that paint the world black and suffocate the life out of hope. I find myself once again thanking God, the living God, for His care for me; and I am comforted this morning that I am doing the will of my Father; that which he always told me to do while he was alive; that is, to stay close to God--and I know he would say, "Well done", if he could.