(Warning, this is sad. But it needed to come out)
My dad’s last words to me were: “You’re an orphan.”
I think that was the moment that I truly became an adult. (at age 41) Until that point, there was always this unspoken assurance that no matter how bad life became, I could always go home. When he died, that feeling of “home” was sucked into a black hole. I have felt adrift ever since, and wonder if I always will. I have a home of my own, but somehow, it’s just not the same. No matter what time of year I went home to visit my dad, there was always a beautiful bouquet on my desk arranged just for me. In spring and summer it was beautiful flowers. In fall and winter it was feathers, colored leaves and interesting dried weeds that he would find on his walks and then set aside just for me.
I miss having someone who loves me so much that they collect little gifts for me until we meet again. There was a self assured quality about me when he was alive that came from knowing that someone in the world loved me first and best. Without it, I feel as if I have fallen down from the ladder of love, back to the bottom rung. I have stayed at that bottom rung for years, too afraid to climb and fall again. It’s not so much the falling as it is the landing. I feel as though I have broken every bone in my emotional body. Five years later and the breaks have yet to heal.
So how do I go on in this world without the unique unconditional love that only a father can provide?
Sometimes I wonder…
I don’t always remember, but when I do: it helps to remember that God is my father now. (And that He always has been.) It helps to stop and say “thank you” to Father God for providing me with all of my needs. It helps to go to Him with my pain and sorrow. Sometimes I even ask Him to deliver messages to my dad. It helps to remember that my dad was a gift, and that not everyone is as blessed as I was to have experienced this unique and special love…
My dad would have turned 83 yesterday. I miss him deeply and dearly. Even though he was very wise, and usually right, t helps to know that his final words to me were wrong. When I remember that I am a daughter of the king, it fortifies me and gets me through the darkest days.