On Second Thought
It's been a month today since my dad died.
I wrote an entire post with the details of the event, but on second thought, I don't think I'm ready to actually share them. What I will reveal today is this: I told everyone that my dad had an unexpected heart attack, which is true. What I didn't spread around was the fact that I was the one who found him having it.
A lot of friends have told me in the past month, "You're a strong woman." While I appreciate that, I know it's an all-out lie. I am not a strong woman. I am an incredibly weak woman. I can only handle -- and have only ever been able to handle -- whatever the Holy Spirit in me allows me to be able to handle.
If I've come to realize anything in the past month, it's that Life Can Royally Suck. We can blame ourselves for everything (I should have dialed 911 faster, I should have insisted on taking him to the hospital when he mentioned feeling jittery earlier that day, etc.) -- and on the surface, sure, we can all logically blame ourselves in hindsight.
But I know it's not my fault my dad died this past Christmas Eve. And I know I didn't do anything wrong to earn the "punishment" of being the one to find him dying.
As tempting as it is to hate God and blame Him for this, too, it's a stupid reaction. Everyone dies. And although my dad was too young for it in American statistics, I can be thankful that it didn't happen any earlier in my own life. I'm 24, not 14, and while it would have been better still if I had been 54, I am glad that it wasn't any worse than it was.
He'll never be a grandfather; if I do get married, my husband will never meet my dad; and Dad won't be at my graduation from grad school.
BUT... He was a father. He loved my brother's wife, and he was at both of our graduations from college. He was proud of us.
Grief and death suck. I need to read vapid Nancy Drew books until my eyes shut at night so that I don't replay Christmas Eve over and over in those moments between wake and sleep. But it's still only been a month. If I made it through this month, I can make it through the next, because the Holy Spirit in me is getting me through it. If I pass any of my classes this semester, it will be thanks in whole to the Holy Spirit's getting me to do the work and succeed in it.
I hate that this happened. Don't get me wrong. But I am so thankful that God provides.
In summary, God is good. And this, Mr. Keats, is the real truth, not beauty. This is all ye need to know on Earth.
May there always be wind in your sails and ink in your pen,
the Barefoot Puzzle
I wrote an entire post with the details of the event, but on second thought, I don't think I'm ready to actually share them. What I will reveal today is this: I told everyone that my dad had an unexpected heart attack, which is true. What I didn't spread around was the fact that I was the one who found him having it.
A lot of friends have told me in the past month, "You're a strong woman." While I appreciate that, I know it's an all-out lie. I am not a strong woman. I am an incredibly weak woman. I can only handle -- and have only ever been able to handle -- whatever the Holy Spirit in me allows me to be able to handle.
If I've come to realize anything in the past month, it's that Life Can Royally Suck. We can blame ourselves for everything (I should have dialed 911 faster, I should have insisted on taking him to the hospital when he mentioned feeling jittery earlier that day, etc.) -- and on the surface, sure, we can all logically blame ourselves in hindsight.
But I know it's not my fault my dad died this past Christmas Eve. And I know I didn't do anything wrong to earn the "punishment" of being the one to find him dying.
As tempting as it is to hate God and blame Him for this, too, it's a stupid reaction. Everyone dies. And although my dad was too young for it in American statistics, I can be thankful that it didn't happen any earlier in my own life. I'm 24, not 14, and while it would have been better still if I had been 54, I am glad that it wasn't any worse than it was.
He'll never be a grandfather; if I do get married, my husband will never meet my dad; and Dad won't be at my graduation from grad school.
BUT... He was a father. He loved my brother's wife, and he was at both of our graduations from college. He was proud of us.
Grief and death suck. I need to read vapid Nancy Drew books until my eyes shut at night so that I don't replay Christmas Eve over and over in those moments between wake and sleep. But it's still only been a month. If I made it through this month, I can make it through the next, because the Holy Spirit in me is getting me through it. If I pass any of my classes this semester, it will be thanks in whole to the Holy Spirit's getting me to do the work and succeed in it.
I hate that this happened. Don't get me wrong. But I am so thankful that God provides.
In summary, God is good. And this, Mr. Keats, is the real truth, not beauty. This is all ye need to know on Earth.
May there always be wind in your sails and ink in your pen,
the Barefoot Puzzle