For this purpose have I come........

It has been a while since I have written a blog, but I knew that I needed to sit down and write today. Sometimes things just hit you, and today was one of those days.

It has been 21 months since my dad passed away on April 17, 2013. The two posts that I wrote after his death were pretty raw.  I was broken and as I wrote, I let every emotion I was feeling flow out of me as I typed.  I thought maybe the writing would help me heal, but although it gave me a momentary peace, I still couldn't seem to come to terms with the fact that my dad was no longer here.  I would listen to all of the people tell me about the loved ones that they have lost, and I would listen to them, but deep inside, I just felt more sorry for myself.  I was angry that God took him from me and nothing seemed to be helping at all.

A few months ago, Father Mike, the priest at my school, was giving a homily at Mass and I remember Him saying that Jesus couldn't heal everyone because He wasn't sent for that reason.  He said a lot more than that, but I remember immediately getting angry and not really listening anymore, because all I could think about was how my dad wasn't lucky enough to be healed of his cancer, but he deserved to be healed.  I remember thinking about others who were healed and thinking that it just wasn't fair.  Father Mike continued his homily, but my thoughts had gone elsewhere so I just sat there, during the rest of his homily, with tears in my eyes and an ache in my heart.

Fast forward to today.  Every Friday in my classroom, we read the upcoming gospel for Sunday's Mass and we discuss it together as a class.  This Sunday, the gospel is Mark 1:29-39.  As I met with my first class of the day, my 6th graders, we read the gospel together and we began discussing how Jesus healed Simon's mother in-law as well as many gathered in need of healing.

Simon’s mother-in-law lay sick with a fever.

They immediately told him about her.

He approached, grasped her hand, and helped her up.

Then the fever left her and she waited on them.

When it was evening, after sunset,

they brought to him all who were ill or possessed by demons.

The whole town was gathered at the door.

He cured many who were sick with various diseases,

and he drove out many demons,

not permitting them to speak because they knew him.

We talked about how powerful Jesus was that He could heal just by touching someone and how merciful He was to offer His healing to so many gathered.  We continued to read on about the next day when Simon and the others came to see Jesus in the morning.

Simon and those who were with him pursued him

and on finding him said, “Everyone is looking for you.”

He told them, “Let us go on to the nearby villages

that I may preach there also.

For this purpose have I come.”

Everyone was still looking for Jesus, because they wanted to be healed, yet he said that they needed to move on.  I asked the class why Jesus would have done that.  Why would the loving and compassionate Jesus that we know, leave people that needed His healing so desperately?  That is when it happened.  Timmy raised his hand and said, " Well, Mrs. D., healing people isn't the main reason why Jesus was sent to us.  It was to go out and preach to others about the Kingdom of Heaven and about God.  Since it isn't His main purpose, some people just aren't going to be healed.  He had to move on."  Wow.  It was at that moment that my eyes were opened.  I immediately could hear Father Mike saying the same thing at Mass, when I was too stubborn to pay attention.  This was the same reading from that day a few months earlier, but God used my sweet, precious Timmy, to get His message across.  I finished the lesson with tears in my eyes, but a healing in my heart.  

You see, as much as I wanted God to heal my dad, that wasn't the reason why Jesus Christ became man.  He was sent here to teach us about His father.  Along the way, many will come to Him and many will receive the gift of His healing and what a precious gift it will be, but not all will be able to be healed, for He did not come for that purpose.  It doesn't mean that God loved my dad any less or that God is unfair, it means that God came for the sole purpose to introduce us to His Father, so that in knowing Him, we can know His father and one day be healed too.

Today, I received the gift of healing.  Will I still grieve the loss of my father?  Of course.  I will forever grieve His passing, but, today, I began to have some peace, and some understanding as to why my father wasn't healed.  Thank you, Father Mike and thank you, Timmy.  God used the both of you to open my eyes and I am so very thankful.

I'm Not Ready

     My dad is dead.  It is hard for me to comprehend that statement even though it has been three months since he passed away.  April 17, 2013.  That date will forever hold a different meaning to me now.  It will never just pass by unnoticed.  Actually, since his passing, the 17th of every month takes me back to that day.  I re-live those last 48 hours over and over in my head.  They were the worst 48 hours of my life.  My dad was here, and then he was gone.   His last breath.....reaching up to the sky, eyes wide open.  That image haunts me.  As much as I hate that image, at least at that moment, he was still  alive.   The next moment....he was gone.....forever.  As each day passes, I have moments where I am laughing with friends or enjoying an activity, but then that thought hits again.......my dad is dead.  Then, everything around me stops.  That feeling overtakes my stomach.  I feel nauseous.  I can't breathe.  It is a feeling I have never known.  It is an ache to deep to explain and one that only those who have lost someone can comprehend.  I wish it upon no one.      



     "Go on," they say.  "It will get easier."  "He is in a better place."  These words do not bring me peace, they cause anger, bitterness, and resentment.  "Easy for you to say.....your dad is alive," I find myself thinking.  Am I actually angry that their dad is alive?  Yes, I am.  These feelings are so foreign to me, but they are real.  They are assaulting.  They are consuming.  As I watch the world continue.....people moving on with their own lives, I want to scream out loud, "My dad is dead!  Why aren't you sad?  Why are you acting like life will go on and that all is normal when nothing for me will ever be normal again?"   Yes, life will go on, but it will be a different life for me.  One without my dad......a life that I can't seem to adjust to living without him.    



     Faith.  Where are you?  Why can't I seem to find peace from the one thing that is the foundation in my life?  I teach it everyday.  There is nothing you can't handle with God......He might not take the storm away, but He will go through it with you.  You must praise Him in the storm......all words spoken by me to my students.  Now it is my storm and I am struggling to live by the very words that I believe and teach on a daily basis.  Why?  Because I loved him.  Because I loved him so very much and my heart is broken.  I am grieving.  I am mad.   I am not ready.  My dad is dead.  That is the only thought that seems to matter to me right now and when it hits me, once again, I can't breathe.  




     Will I heal?  I'm sure it will begin to hurt less eventually.  Will I ever stop grieving?  I don't think so.  Not completely.  I think I will grieve the loss of my dad every day, in some way, for the rest of my life.   I think he deserves that much anyway.  For 39 years he loved me completely.  I was in his every thought and I loved knowing that.  Trying to navigate my life without him is going to take some time....not the amount of time that people think is appropriate, but whatever time I know I need.   My dad is dead and I'm not ready to heal yet.    



     My dad took a part of me with him when he took his last breath.   I felt it.  I felt my heart break into pieces.  I will never be the same.  Will I laugh again?  Yes.  Will I still enjoy life?  Yes.  But, without him........without my dad.......I am forever changed.  I am fatherless.  I am a daddy's girl without her daddy.  That is what defines me right now and that is my new reality.    



     Many of my friends are worried about my faith.  They expected me to be stronger.  Many expected me to accept this as God's will and His plan.  Many thought I would find comfort in knowing that my dad is in Heaven........and I guess I should......but I don't.   I know I have let many down and I'm sorry.  My faith is still there, but nothing has ever hurt this much and I believe that what I am feeling is ok.  This is grief.  If I don't allow myself to feel this, I don't know if I will ever heal completely.  I know that my God will pick up the pieces of my broken heart one day and I know that one day I will turn to Him for that help........but not yet.  I'm not ready........so, don't force me to be ready.   Don't expect me to be ready.  Right now, I need to be carried.....by my family, by my friends and most especially......by my God.      



     So, why am I writing this?  I'm not sure.  I just know that I had to write this.   Maybe this is the first step in the healing process.  Whatever it is, it is my truth, it is my grief, it is my heartache.  It is me trying to navigate this life without my dad.......one day at a time.....one memory at a time.....one tear at a time.  Because for anything else.......I'm just not ready.             

Lost.....

     I am home alone tonight and since my dad passed away that is not a good thing for me.  When I have time to think, my thoughts go to him.  I still can't even grasp the fact that my father is gone.  I know that he battled cancer for 18 months, but I really did believe that he would beat it.  My dad was a machine.  He was the strongest man I ever knew.  I knew that if anyone could beat cancer it would be him.  That is what makes me so mad.  Why?  Why didn't he beat this horrible disease?  I am a person of deep faith.  I believe that God has a plan and when I pray, I usually ask for God's will to be done, but not this time.  This time, I prayed for healing.  I prayed for a miracle, but I didn't get it.  I have lived my life trying to serve God every chance I get.  I try to tell others about Him and lead others to Him.  So, was the death of my father His will?  If so, then I am pissed.  Was this a test?  He tested Abraham.  Is this my test?  If so, well, He got me.  This is the one test that I can't pass.  I can't be ok with my dad's death.  I can't find peace in the fact that he is in a better place.  This was his heaven.  Being with his family was his heaven.  His grandchildren were his heaven.  He wanted to be here.  He fought like hell to be here.  As a Christian, I am supposed to find comfort in the fact that even though my dad has died that my faith will get me through this.  Well, I don't have that right now.   I have my faith, but for the first time in my life, it is not helping.  There isn't a Scripture that has helped.  There isn't a song that has helped.  Nothing.  I am broken.  My best friend has died.  My rock, my strength.....gone.  Who am I without him?  I was in his thoughts 24 hours a day.  If a storm was coming, he called to tell me to stay home.  If I was out of coffee creamer, it was in my refrigerator before I got home from work.  My father knew what I needed before I even did.  I don't know what to do without that.  The loss is unbearable.  The emptiness is painful.  I am forever changed.  

     So many other people in my life have experienced loss.  I think of my friend, Terri, who lost her daughter, Meg.  I think of my friend, Rosemarie, who lost her daughter, Jessica.  I think of my friend, Teresa, who lost her husband, Peter.   I think of all my friends who have lost a parent already and I say, I'm sorry.  I didn't do enough for you.  I didn't know the pain.  For the past few weeks, I have cried for you.  I have hurt with you.  I have joined my suffering and my pain with yours.  I now understand.

     They say it will get better.  They say that I will heal in time.  I guess that is true, but I don't think I will ever be ok with the fact that my dad died at 67.  I don't think I will ever be ok that I lost so many years with him.  That pain will always remain.  I guess I will learn to live with it, but life for me will never be the same.  My dad took a part of me with him when he died.  A big part.  So for now, I cry.  Empty and broken.  A daughter lost without her daddy.