It's been 6 months. It's funny how some phrases will bother me at different times. Some moments I'm fine with "passed away" or "died" and others it's like hearing it for the first time and it stings. Jon, Shannon, Me, Ashton, and finally Mom have now all had our first birthdays without Dad. At Mom's birthday dinner, she was talking about something and said, "After Dad passed away..." and those words hurt like salt in an open wound. I whispered through tears, "Don't say passed away" and Mom replied, "I don't like to say 'died' because he isn't dead, he's just passed away." I thought that was beautiful. Peter calls us in 1 Peter 2:11 "strangers and aliens." As someone who has been an alien in a foreign country, I like this analogy. For the Christ-follower, this world is not our home. My Dad moved home. ❤
As I've mourned the loss of my Dad these past months I've learned quite a bit about grief. It is not at all what I thought it was. It is so much more than missing someone, or hurting, or anger, or disbelief. I've heard it described as a process, something you work through. But at this point, it seems more like a transformation. My Dad is a part of me. Not only in relationship but also physically. I have his eyes, his sausage fingers, his DNA. When he abruptly left a piece of me left with him. Yes, I still have his physical features, but I'm no longer who I was. Those who have walked this hard road before me try to explain by describing it as "a new normal." And I guess that really is the best way to phrase it. I'm sure there are parts of my personality or aspects of my character that look different right now. There have certainly been times that I've not recognized my own self. And I know that will continue to change as I work to find my new normal.
One way Dad and I were similar is that we both care deeply about being understood. I didn't have this realization until a couple years ago. I have long thought that my "need" to argue a point was because I wanted to be right and I just couldn't let it go. However, after some self-reflection, I came to the conclusion that it was less about being right and more about the other person understanding why I believed what I believed. I can concede that my thought about the topic at hand was wrong, but I still need to make sure that what I thought was logical, even if it wasn't true. Dad was like this. I wish I had realized it sooner. It probably would have made our work environment more peaceful for those around us.
Just like I had the realization about needing to be understood, there are still realizations that I have yet to come to. I know at times I'm prickly. Other times I'm withdrawn or secluded. And sometimes it is as if nothing has changed. I have tried to work through things myself, I have leaned really hard on those that love me most and I have sat down with professionals to learn new skills and tools to help me and all of those have been beneficial. I have made unhealthy and super selfish choices as well and I am so comforted by the truth that the Lord remembers that we are from dust. His gentleness is so very evident and I'm grateful. My Dad's death has been a catalyst for change in my life. It's not easy, it's not pretty, it's not fast. But, it is worth it, it is refining, it is sanctifying.
Psalm 23 describes the "valley of the shadow of death" and I've always thought of that place as somewhere I would walk when my time comes, but I am definitely walking through that valley now after my Dad's death, and the promise that "for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me" have been like a healing balm to my shattered heart. ❤
