Since my dad died 14 years ago, every time I see something about a father-daughter dance, father-daughter weekend for sororities, and fathers walking their daughters down the aisle, my heart hurts a little because I won't have that. And for years I never wanted to be the girl whose dad died, and I know my sisters have had similar experiences and we each deal with our grief in different ways.
My dad was taken from our lives when he was only 46. He never got to witness his daughters graduating from high school or college, never met their husbands, never got to walk them down the aisle, and never got to meet his amazing grandchildren. And...it breaks my heart. I look at this beautiful life I have and sometimes I just really wish my daddy were here. I wish he was here to give me advice about boys, to hold me when I cry, and help me make big life decisions. Granted, I know my life would be completely different if he were alive, and obviously it's a part of my life that I've accepted, but I'm allowed to miss him. And I think knowing I'm allowed to miss him and wish he were here took me a long time to know it was OK. I don't go around telling people the story about my dad's death, but if they ask, I'm open about talking about it. In some ways, I really have to detach myself from what I'm saying when I tell the story, simply because it's a wound that will never heal. I've accepted what's happened in my life, but I will always have a little hole in my heart because of his death, but it's OK, and I know that now.
Really what has brought all of this on is the fact that I had a dream a couple of nights ago about the night my dad died. Let's be real, it wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare, and a nightmare that I lived out almost 14 and a half years ago. Once again I was 6 years old sitting at the top of the steps listening to my dad take his last breaths. I think about this day from time-to-time, but usually I push those memories to the side and do my best to focus on the beauty in my life, but I can't deny my sub-conscience. I woke up crying and it took a lot of prayers and scripture reciting to calm me back down.
Please don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly grateful for my life, especially my family. I have the three most amazing sisters and the world's most incredible mom, along with a wonderful grandpa who lives with us. I'm showered with blessings, but I've learned along the way that I can't deny my emotions, and right now, I'm sad. Right now, I'm 6 years old wondering why my daddy won't walk through the door on a Sunday morning with a box full of donuts.
My dad's death gave me a very skewed understanding of God. We call God "the Father," and the way my dad's death was described to me was that he was in heaven now. In a 6 year old brain death alone is an incredible concept to grasp, so I kind of combined my dad with God, it seems weird, I know, but remember how you thought of things in elementary school. I also grew bitter towards God- why would He do this? Why would he take a father who loved his wife, worked hard, and adored his children off of this earth? Why would He deny the memories I mentioned above to 4 young girls? And I was angry, for many years. I was 16 when I finally let God take over some of that anger. It wasn't until I was 18 that I really let Him take that anger away. I distinctly remember I was with Jackie and Andrew driving in the car in the mountains on our way back from Andrew's brother's wedding (I went to help watch Workmon family kids). As we were driving I looked out the window and saw a cross completely illuminated and it took be aback so much I asked if it was real, and it was. It then started a conversation about Jesus and the cross and Andrew told me I needed to leave all of my hurt, resentment, and anger at the cross, and that really hit me. And that night and in the days to come I gave it to God. That was in November of my freshman year at UGA, and I look on my freshman year and remember how happy I was. I look at pictures and know my smile in them was genuine. That was really the first time I ever let God take the pain away. I did lose sight of all of that and I've had to let Him take away a lot of pain and hurt from a different kind of heartbreak in the last months, but He's done it. So now I just need to breathe deeply and know He has some greater purpose in having me live the majority of my life without my daddy. I trust Him, but man...it's so hard.
I love you, Daddy.
Smile, God loves you!
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