Dad stepped into heaven 4 years ago today. I have no reason to think my experience of this event is universal. But I recently found myself describing it, and here’s what came out.
It’s a peculiarly exposed feeling, your dad being gone.
You’ll feel naked, unprotected. You’ll maybe fall apart. Maybe you’ll only stumble. Either way, you’ll pick yourself up and do the next thing, and the next, because your people rely on you the same way you relied on him. You’ll tend to the people you love because duty moves you when nothing else would. Some days you’re fighting through a haze to do what you need to do, but you show up and do it. Mostly. In the moment, it feels like none of it means anything. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.
It’ll be the first thing you think about, every single day.
Time will pass.
And then one day, it’ll be the second thing you think about. Then the third. You’ll probably feel bad. It’s too soon, you’ll think. But it happens anyway.
The one year anniversary will come around. You won’t be ready to stop saying “My dad died this year” and start saying “My dad died a year ago.” It’ll still feel like yesterday.
You still feel naked without him.
People say it gets better with time. They’re not wrong…and then again, they are. You might grow accustomed to it, but the naked feeling doesn’t go away. You get callouses, and with them, perspective. (If you’re blessed and you work at it, you might have good community around you. I do; I’ve worked very hard for it, and God has been very kind. It’s great to be shoulder to shoulder with trustworthy folks. But it’s not the same thing, and you realize that, too.) One day, you realize he probably felt the same way when his dad died. He never told you. He didn’t pass on that naked feeling to you; he became the shelter. Under that shelter you grew, unaware of what he was giving you. (“Unaware” isn’t right. I was aware, and deeply grateful. I was blessed to know what I had when I had it. But I know more about it now than I did then.)
Now you know more deeply. And you know you’re not on the demand side anymore; you’re on the supply side. You shelter who you can: your kids, their friends, whoever’s within your reach that needs it.
You give them what you can, as long as you can, buying them precious time and space to grow strong and wise. You’ll be gone too soon, and it’ll be their turn.
Full Contact Christianity 