On Friday, May 8, 2020, my dad and I were out on a bike ride. We were having a great time, enjoying the day and enjoying one another’s company, but the day ended in mourning: After a freak accident, my father died in my arms around 4:00pm. He died quickly, and thanks be to God I don’t think he ever even had the opportunity to realize what happened.

That being said, the past week has been a whirlwind. My father had always said that when he died, he wanted me to officiate his funeral; I had always assumed that I would have 20 more years to prepare, but as the Bible reminds us, we never know what tomorrow brings. On Thursday at 3:00pm, my best friend and I were enjoying a bike ride; an hour later, I held him in my arms, weeping over him, crying over him, singing over him; less than twenty-four hours later, I sat in a funeral home planning his funeral. Less than a week later, I stood before a crowd of hundreds of faithful friends and family who showed to pay respect to my father and celebrate his life.