This past year, I measured time differently: in firsts. My first birthday without my dad. First Father’s Day without my
dad. Independence Day; Thanksgiving; his birthday; Christmas; a New Year
without my dad.
There was the first time I realized a mundane Tuesday was
the longest I had gone without talking with my dad and knowing every day after would break the record. Or the first time I couldn’t hold it together
when a friend asked how I was.
There was the first time I avoided a neighbor because I knew
he would ask after my dad, and I didn’t want to say the words that still sound
so wrong.
In this year of firsts, there were also quite a few reminders.
I remembered past birthday dinners, Father’s Day car shows,
Sunday mornings at church followed by a shared panini and conversation, and so many memories I have the privilege to cherish.
I was beautifully reminded how vital family and friends are in the ebbs
and flows of grief, in the hot tears and the genuine laughter alike.
I was reminded again and again how big God is. His love and
mercy and peace are bigger than all the firsts of this past year. His grace reached out to my dad and invited him to receive His love and salvation. And
that same grace has covered me - sometimes in a supernatural peace and sometimes
in the arms of a friend.
A year has gone by, and I don’t miss my dad any less, but I
have learned the healing depths of love.
