My dad

Last Friday marked six weeks since Dad passed away. It feels in some ways like that time has flown by, but mostly it feels like its been longer. I sat with John today talking about my dad and the grieving process and decided that it might be time to write more about it.

Thanksgiving with my dad was a gift. Around late September, I started thinking about spending it in Houston. At that point, I thought our Holidays with dad might be limited, but I had no idea that it would be our last one. I thought we had at least 6 more months. I knew, however, that it was important to be there for Thanksgiving, so I made my arrangements, as did my sisters and brother. I left Dominica and my life there behind--sad to say goodbye, but knowing I was heading to something much more important. I arrived the Saturday before Thanksgiving. Dad was not doing well, and pretty much stayed in the bed at the hospital or at home for the first two days. Then, on Monday morning, He woke up and felt a lot better. He seemed like himself again and I got to be his chauffeur for the day, taking him to all his appointments around the city. I couldn't have been more grateful for the time to spend with him, driving to and from, and all the conversations in-between. I didn't know it at the time, but that day was going to be his last one; his last full one. His days from then on would be spent in bed. I am so thankful for that day. We talked about our family, my wedding, our feelings, his bucket list, and his favorite foods. I asked him questions I had always wanted to ask him and he answered each one with love and patience. Afterwards, i wrote down everything I could remember that he had said. I knew it wouldn't be long before the memory was a clouded one, and i wanted to keep it as clear as possible.

Thanksgiving week was filled with tending to dad's medical needs, praying at his bedside, being with my siblings, and more good (short, but good) conversations with dad when he was able to talk. Each of us had time alone with him as well as all together. Treasures.


I said goodbye to my dad the Tuesday following Thanksgiving. A week later, Amber & I booked our flight to come back, because his symptoms were not improving. Just 24 hours after we had booked our flight, Dad started to decline quickly and the doctors suggested that everyone get there as soon as possible. We all flew in on the same day on different flights. I was very uptight, fearful that we wouldn't make it in time, especially because of our layover. As I sat on the plane from Charlotte to Houston, though, my heart slowed and I felt God's hand on us, on our family, on my dad, and I prayed. I was listening to a shuffle mix of my music and a song came on titled "Home Tonight" by Chris Rice. Although I had listened to the song many times, I had never heard it like I did then. The lyrics are about going home to the arms of Jesus, and I immediately sensed God telling me that He was so excited for Dad to come home to be with Him. Not only could I sense God telling me that, but He was giving me a taste of what His heart was feeling! I could FEEL the joy, delight, and anticipation of God--to see MY dad!! It was powerful. I cried there on the plane as I imagined my dad's homecoming. The very next song was "Going Home" by Sara Groves, which is about dreaming of going home to be with Jesus. When the song was over, my mp3 player died; battery was completely done. :) It was a gift. In the midst of my sadness, I was also able to experience the joy of my dad going home. We finally arrived and went straight the hospice facility. He was unable to talk to us, but did communicate that he heard us and knew who we were.

The next 24 hours were spent at dad's bedside, us all praying, reading scripture, telling stories of our childhood, holding his hand, and laying next to him. It was a sacred and surreal experience. Both immeasurably difficult and sweet at the same time. Friday morning at 8:45, we knew his time was close. After 40 minutes of labored breathing and much time in-between each breath, he passed on. We truly saw his soul leave to be with Jesus. No more pain, loss, fear, or shame. We cried by his bedside together for awhile after he passed. There aren't words to describe it, really.

The next two weeks were a blur of funeral preparations, faces of friends & family supporting us in every way.
It was a tiring two weeks--with physical and emotional exhaustion, ending with a sweet time with my mom's side of my family in Gatlinburg, TN. It was nice to be able to escape there and be with people I love, eat foods that make me feel at home, and to have John back home again. We spent Christmas in TN, then left for Saginaw just 4 days after Christmas. And now here we are. 6 weeks later.

Although I've experienced loss before, nothing has been quite like this. There is no manual. I didn't learn about this in grad school. I am feeling my way as I go along. My grief shows up at very random times, usually when I least expect it. Sometimes a song will remind me of my dad, or I will think of something he used to do or say, like singing "deedle lee dee" to a tune he made up on his own and dancing with his hands. I was exercising at the YMCA the other day and looked up to find a poster advertisement for a father-daughter dance.
Granted, the event was for girls ages 12 and under, but I couldn't help but think of my dad and feel the weight of his absence. Sometimes I will get the urge to call him, then like a brick just knocking me in the stomach, I will realize I can't. Or putting all my new numbers into my phone and realizing I don't need to put my dad's in. It's in small moments that i miss him the most. Part of me feels like its wrong or unfair that he's gone. Although death is natural, I don't think separation is.


I've wanted to figure out a way to deal with this, and for the pain to at least diminish. I have found that no matter how much I journal, talk with friends, family, pray, or just speak with God about it, the pain doesn't subside--even temporarily. In talking with John today, I realized that maybe it's not supposed to. and that it just has to be this way for awhile.

I miss my dad. Sometimes, i want to shout it from the rooftops or whisper it to God, but i miss him. I miss hearing his voice on the other end of the phone. I feel it most when I think of something I would normally tell him about, like my new apartment, what its like to live up north, Dixie, John passing the COMP!!!!!, or to discuss our plans post 5th semester with him to get his insight.


My dad fought honorably. He never complained and if he did mention his pain, he always minimized it. He didn't run from his illness or the emotions that followed. He faced his fears, his decisions, his life, and cancer with true integrity. And I got to have a relationship with him that I'd always longed for, that we'd both always longed for. I am blessed and grateful.

No great insight as to where to go from here, except to keep going, and know that there is a reason for the loneliness. God is always drawing us back to him, even through the most painful experiences. maybe even more so in those. Sometimes I'd rather fill my heart and mind with something other than God--and I do. But when I choose Him, I'm always satisfied, even if the pain doesn't subside.