Dear Dad: I Miss You
NOTE: This post is kind of erratic. I wrote it a few days ago and have been feeling pretty anal about it not flowing as well as I’d like it to. Yet, this is how it came out of my head and I’m all about sharing my experience authentically. So, here’s the most disorganized post I’ll ever share. Good luck.
Why does grieving have to last so long and be so difficult?
I had to put Caleb down tonight without his bear and he’s still screaming. I know that he’ll eventually fall asleep and sleep just fine without Bear (there was an incident after which Bear absolutely had to have a bath), but he’s not convinced. Similarly, life will never be the same after a loved one is gone; just as Caleb will fall asleep without Bear, I will settle into my new normal without you.
Christmas afternoon, just after we finished watching Muppet Christmas Carol, we got the call that our dear friend Josh had joined you in heaven. Life was not supposed to be this way. You’re not supposed to lose a parent and a friend in your 20’s. It’s just not fair.
And then my all-knowing 6-year-old niece looked at me and said words that will ring in my head forever:
“Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you want it to.”
That’s really the hardest part: things don’t work out the way I want.
And yet, God is still in control. We live in a messed up world, but I am learning to see God as the rescuer of the world. He is redeeming and making this world new. He is patient in waiting for us to run to him instead of bringing down iron-handed justice at the slightest hint of wrong-doing.
There is hope. It doesn’t always feel like it, but it’s there. Hope is there, waiting quietly for me to scoop it up and breath it in. It’s there waiting for me to sink deep into it’s embrace and breathe deeply.
That’s exactly why this grief journey is so hard. There is peace and there is sadness at the same time.
I miss you, dad. I miss walking through the door to a big bear hug. I miss hearing the smile in your voice when I call to say hi. I miss emailing you to brag about my most recent project. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
Contrary to popular belief, it’s not the holidays that make me sad; it’s the mundane things. It’s seeing Caleb laugh and realizing you’re missing it. It’s being able to crawl into bed next to mom because your side is empty. It’s settling into our first house without your handyman expertise. It’s coming downstairs each morning and not seeing you at the table.
This grief journey is hard, but the pain is getting better. I’m holding onto the hope of healing and missing you all the time.