Two weeks and a couple of days ago, my dad died in his sleep.
We didn't know he had cancer. He didn't know.
I was walking around the lake with my husband, my kids and my in-laws when I got the call from my brother. My knees buckled and I let myself fall to the ground.
Dad was gone. I sobbed. Right in the middle of a crowded park. People asked if I was okay. I didn't even notice them.
Dad was handsome. Dad was brilliant.
Dad was an alcoholic for most of my life.
Dad and I hadn't seen each other in nearly six years.
Dad knew I loved him. I loved him so much, in fact, that it ate me up inside to see him in such sorrow. About four years ago, I told him that I loved him too much to see him in such a dark place. I begged him, BEGGED him to get help, but I told him I couldn't save him, HE had to make the choice.
He found a church.
He walked in to a men's group and poured out his heart. Told them he was ready to change. That he couldn't do it on his own.
My dad went from someone who hated church to someone that spoke openly, enthusiastically about a risen Jesus.
My dad spent his last couple of years on this earth feeding the homeless. Volunteering at a women's shelter. Mowing elderly people's lawns.
My dad was a changed man.
My heart breaks for what could have been. I wish we could have hugged and I wish I could have told him how proud I was of him. But as my pastor told me last week, we have all of eternity to make things right.
My heart is so heavy, sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe. As C.S. Lewis said, "No one ever told me grief felt so like fear."
I went down and spoke to the men's group that changed his life. I thanked them. We cried together. I felt peace for a little bit. I gave a bunch of hugs to some men I had never met. I felt gratitude. They were the hands and feet of Jesus to him when no one else could be.
I don't think this kind of loss is something to get over. I think we just learn how to carry it.
I'm sad we didn't get to make things right. I'm sad he never got to meet my kids.
But one day, we'll have eternity.
Until then I just have to remember to smile at everyone, because I may be the only light they see that day.
