My father died a week ago today. After three years-plus in a nursing home, with who knows how many "mini strokes" along the way, he finally found his rest.

My feelings have been all over the map. There is a sense of relief because he can finally no longer hurt me (and the guilt that accompanies those feelings.) There is concern for my mom, who dutifully went there and sat with him every single day for over three years and must now find her life again. There is a peace in the realization that he has found healing - for both his broken body and the broken relationship with his own father - in God's presence.

There is also a sense of gratitude that we were able to get the call and make it there before he passed. I really didn't know what to say - certainly there were years when I wasn't so far along in my recovery when I would have poured out all my rage and resentment, but instead I was able to tell him, "You are a child of God, and I am a child of God, and at the end of the day that's what really matters."

Two days after his passing we got the call that my daughter was in labor. We hit the highway for the four-hour trip and welcomed our beautiful granddaughter into the world.

As I look back over the past week and process all that took place, I stand amazed at how my HP had prepared me. Just a couple of weeks ago I began talking to him every day in earnest. I began to really understand my powerlessness over people, places and things (AND in-laws, lol.) Little did I know at the time that, just as I was beginning to make my recovery my own, it was going to be put to such a test.

I am allowing myself to feel whatever it is I'm feeling concerning my father. This will be a long and at times difficult journey, for I only began to acknowledge my deep-seated rage and resentment over his abuse relatively recently. However, I trust my recovery (and HP and my support system) enough to go wherever that path takes me.

There was also more than a little dysfunction surrounding my granddaughter's birth. Other members of the extended, blended family were getting all worked up over perceived slights - a lot of resentment being expressed. I was able to maintain a recovery mindset and actually recall the three Cs in real time, and I thought that was pretty cool. So instead of working myself into a lather, trying to figure out what to say to fix everything, I said to myself, "I'm not responsible!" and instead just enjoyed being with (almost) everyone. That, my friends, is the program working, because I worked it.

Today I'm looking for the license plate of the truck that hit me, but most of all I'm grateful for my HP's care, for recovery in general, and for knowing and caring people who share this journey with me.