Without my father

23 August 2023 was the date on which I lost my dad. It’s not been long since be passed and I think the initial shock of finding him gone is merging with the reality that he’s not here with me. It is such a strange feeling. There’s a sorrow I recognise from years past from having lost my mum that has now resurfaced. It is an overwhelming sorrow and it makes me feel like I’m drowning. It’s an old friend and yet it feels so alien. It makes me feel so unwell.

There’s a sense of dread inside, about what happens now. I look at the rocking chair I ordered for my dad. It arrived after his passing and he never so much as sat on it, but it makes me think about what happens now. I’m so used to having dad with me. He’s seen me through everything – the joys, the pitfalls, the deep sorrow of losing mum, etc. but he’s not here now. I don’t know how to process this. It’s unreal. A lot of me is asking if this is even happening. It feels like a bad dream. Papa’s been a big part of my life- a constant figure. In July, I drove home in the wee hours of the morning, after dropping my best friend off at the airport. I was in tears. When I got home, Papa was there, arms wide open, ready with a hug. That’s the same hug I got when things went well and I was giddy with joy. Constant.

My big question is not where is God in all this. God’s there. Just the timing of it all is incredible. This year, knowing how my grandad had passed on three days before his 90th, I said fervent prayers that this wouldn’t happen to my dad. I prayed for the 90th birthday party I was planning for him as well as for the 50th I was planning for myself. In fact, it all now feels like it’s been one big send off for Papa. I’m reminded that we all die once before we step into that time of salvation with Christ. (Hebrews 9:27: And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.). I’m exceedingly grateful for Papa’s faith because of the assurance we have in Christ.

Processing my faith is not a one off act, where I can say it’s all done and dusted. Different things happen in life, what we call the ups and downs. Through those, we are by grace, drawn closer to God. The object of my faith, God, is the saving grace, not so much my faith. Thankfully too, for I am on rocky ground. My dad’s passing has exposed a feeling of vulnerability within. Perhaps in some way, his presence has been the tangible aspect of my faith. I felt seen. I was heard. Even when we argued and got in each other’s way, there were saving graces that both of us experienced. Papa and I had some epic battles. When two headstrong people argue, it’s not the best. For some reason, this was all I focused on in the few days after he died- that we had had some arguments. Perhaps it is guilt. I wondered if I could be more compliant. Almost immediately, a very recent memory, from June this year, comes to mind. He reminded me that he and mum had brought me up to be independent. Perhaps he never expected me to comply blindly. I know that there was a significant moment a few years after mum died. Papa and I had attended a workshop in church. When we came home, he called me aside and told me that he has been moved by things said in the workshop and wanted to apologise for his shortcomings as a parent. I remembered this as I sat sobbing in a counsellor’s room a few days ago. Such words were not my dad’s. He wasn’t good with words. Additionally, I know myself well enough to say I don’t accept such words easily as I don’t naturally have that grace. I’m way too sceptical. However, Papa said those words, and I remember embracing him and being embraced – without any cynicism. It was just love. To my mind, the fact that it happened, could only have been from God. Both father and daughter living out imperfect lives by grace. I’m going to miss this a lot.

My favourite Biblical character, King David (who was ruddy, handsome, and had beautiful eyes – 1 Samuel 16:12) was quite a character. He was quite a wordsmith- consider his poems. He was indeed a lover of women – count his wives, concubines and read his conquests. He was a magnificent warrior – his battle prowess is recorded. He was many great things, and yet he was quite a terrible father. That failure is epic. My father was definitely not good with words. He wasn’t a Romeo, Don Juan like character- though he did dress well and look good. He wasn’t some warrior. He led a quiet life. He enjoyed quiet things like Sudoku, watching the news and live sport. He wasn’t a failure as a husband or father. Quite the contrary. He stood by his wife, honouring his marital covenant before God, even when illness ravaged her and made life difficult in our family. I remember how much he had to shoulder because of mum’s illness. Papa took it all in stride. He loved me well – as a father should love his daughter. Papa stood up for me in many ways (where even my favourite king David failed to stand up for his daughter). My dad understood me and had my back. He recognised battles that I had to fight, paths that I had to choose, freedoms that I wanted. He never once stopped me, but rather supported me.

This is where I guess my faith kicks in, to remind me that Papa was a blessing to me from a great, great God and that the time I had with him was a gift. I’m going to miss my father a lot more than I can say. My heart is broken. My home is shattered. I’m trying to remember Papa’s words every time he prepped me for his passing. He was ready to meet His Maker. He was full of life but ready for his next chapter. I cannot promise there will be no tears from me as I continue in life without my parents.

In fact, I think there will be many ‘firsts’ that I’m not looking forward to. However, I will trust God in this darkness and wait for the day when I too have all my tears wiped away, and when I will no longer mourn, cry, or suffer pain (Revelation 21: 4). For now- whilst I go on without my father, I will miss him dearly.