Dear Dad: We’re Okay
It’s been a whole five weeks since we lost you. There have been days of wonderful reminiscing and harder days when we’re weepy. But for the most part, we’re okay.
We’ve spent a lot of time up at the lake. Our time is spent watching movies, snuggling Caleb, reading books, taking walks, and staring at the lake. We nap and cook and eat (and maybe enjoy a glass of wine and bowl of ice cream). We miss you, but we are so glad that you are finally experiencing healing.
Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)
People keep asking how we are “really” doing. Honestly, we are really okay. We are not falling apart like people are expecting us to and it gets really frustrating when people don’t believe us. Of course we are sad. There’s no good way to learn to live without you. I keep expecting you to come home from work, come in the door with a big grin on your face, just happy to see us. Late at night when I’m up with Caleb I get desperate for one of your bear hugs. I look at Caleb and see the dimple in his chin, just like yours, and remember that we have reassuring memories of you all around us (I’ve even commandeered some of your PJs and sweats since I’m still working off the pregnancy weight!)
Mom is incredible (but we already knew that). She’s not pretending to be strong or stoic; she is working hard to continue to honor you through the project to help bring clean water to Haiti. She misses you like crazy, but she is just as resilient as always and is leaning on God for strength and comfort.
I guess that’s what I wish people understood; we are not okay because we possess some mysterious special power. We are choosing to trust that God is taking care of us. He has given us peace (and we have not confused peace with denial).
God is so faithful to us.
The faithful love of the Lord never ends!His mercies never cease.Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!” (Lamentations 3:22-24)
Your friends are helping mom with the business end of things and the church has provided more food than we could imagine cooking on our own. The Big Red Stinky Dog came back from your brother’s house and he has been the exact companion we’ve all needed; who would imagine that crazy dog would be such a comfort?! I am encouraged when I think of all the people you are reuniting with in heaven. I imagine you’re helping organize the paving of those “streets of gold” and I smile. I can’t wait for our reunion in heaven one day.
It’s taken me two weeks to start writing again, but I see this letter as a fresh start. It’s time to make new memories and continue our healing. Nothing will fill the void you’ve left, but I am using my grief and your memory to keep reminding people of what you knew was most important: Jesus wants a relationship with us and will fill all the holes in our hearts.
P.S. There was a huge gorgeous pheasant outside today. I can’t look at game birds the same after growing up with you 🙂