Underlying sadness and hope

I’m so very blessed. Some of my closest friends are here with me. They flew over from the UK to keep me company over my dad’s first year death anniversary. Papa passed away on 23 August 2023. My mind has been full of events leading up to the day I found him. My mind is busy. Even as I attempt to make conversation, or do so many other things, I find myself linking things back to my dad. 

This morning for instance, we went to the park I take Gamora for walks. My little Gamora loved it. My friends and I had to tolerate her nonstop high pitched sounds that are accompanied by her constant wagging tail all the way on the drive to the park. She especially dislikes it if the car stops. For Gamora, traffic jams and traffic lights are simply unbearable. They get in the way of her heading to the park, which is her mini land of delights. 

True to form, Gamora’s nose was peeled to the ground once we got to the park, and she happily explored, contributed towards watering and fertilising the ground, and merrily ran along. It’s her happy place. For my friends, it was their first time there. They were taken in by the joys of nature from a different land, while Gamora squealed at every squirrel, monitor lizard, and bird she saw but wasn’t allowed to try and hunt down. Her squeals are loud. She takes the disappearance of hunting prospects very seriously. The park was lovely today. It was gloomy and at points we had a mild drizzle, but still, it was pretty. The water lilies were out. They’re my favourites. I was glad to share the park with my friends. I love going there with Gamora. It’s especially wonderful when my friends and family join us there. In the middle of this joy, I had a constant nagging feeling. I first went to this particular park days after my dad’s funeral. I needed to get out of the house. I needed to expel the restlessness within me. The park was lovely then too. Gamora loved it. Inside, I was sad. It’s a gorgeous place that I can’t share with my dad. 

My dad was always interested in where I’d been. Even if it was to the pool, he’d be keen to know how the entire experience was – it was his way of sharing the joy when he wasn’t able to join in person. In fact, every time I get home from the park or anywhere else, I can hear him ask me how it was. How far had I walked or swum? Who had I seen? The questions were endless. His delight was real. I miss this. I miss him. He wouldn’t have been able to join us at the park today, but he’d have been so happy to hear how it’d all gone for us. 

Maybe I should explain how it went. It was really lovely. How many times have I said that about the park already? There are always pretty flowers, gigantic trees with all sorts of growths coming out of them, fish, tortoises, birds, squirrels, monkeys, and monitor lizards among others to look at. I’m quite happy if we never see monkeys or monitor lizards, but it’s hard to escape them. There are parts of the grass which are covered in flowers of different colours- purple, yellow, pink, white carpets over the lush green grass. Simply gorgeous. There are busy colonies of red ants at work. I’m quite careful when I see them and keep an eye out to steer Gamora away from them but their work ethic is legendary. It shows. The brownness of the leaves that cover the ground and the bog-like ground in some parts of the park on rainy days, are an ever present reminder that it’s not always pretty. Earlier, Gamora refused to walk on the bridges. I’d have to carry her. For almost a whole year, she’s flatly refused. She overcame her aversion to the bridges and decks not so long ago. Now, it’s hard to keep her away. She wants to cross every bridge or visit each deck. So much to see and do. On some days, we meet familiar or friendly faces. That’s quite a treat. On some other days, we meet doggies and Gamora’s especially thrilled when she’s able to bond with them. There are days like today when Gamora and I have company. Delightful! There are days when it’s just the two of us. Whatever the circumstance at the park, there’s always the feeling in my heart that it’s not just mum who’s no longer here, but papa’s gone too. I remind myself as I drive back not to expect to see his car. It’s a shock I feel every time when it’s not there as I drive into our porch. Today our friends came home with us. We had company going into the house. Papa’s absence makes it very difficult going inside the house after being out. I keep thinking he’s going to be there and he’s not. There’s always a moment when reality hits. It’s not a great feeling when that happens. This is but a little insight into what it’s been like for the past year, but my dad’s not here and I can’t tell him. 

I miss papa. I’m thankful to God for the loved ones I have around me. I’m thankful for the opportunities to remember papa. I’m so grateful to the ones who talk to me about my dad and my mum. I cannot say how deeply thankful I am that they do this. I’m blessed to have pretty places to go to, whether they are parks, little breaks in hillsides or by the beach. I’m grateful to have loved ones coming by our home. So thankful for this. All of this is grace from God. They don’t stop my mind from missing my dad and mum. That wheel seems to keep turning. There doesn’t seem to be a brake. It’s a whole new experience I cannot tell my dad about. 

I don’t think faith in God stops pain. I think faith in God happens through pain. It’s a journey where God takes you through a tumultuous road and assures you that He is there all the time. I think this is what will help me keep going. As I plan ahead and look to time ahead, I cannot help but feel that I am grateful that I will meet my parents again. Even in my lowest, driest moments of faith, the object of my faith, Jesus, saves. I’m so thankful for this. It’s not up to me. If it were, I think I can let it be known that I’ve checked out for a bit. I pray for better days, when this feeling of sadness leaves me. I dislike it. It weighs down my shoulders and I feel its tightness in my body. Till the coming again of Jesus’ kingdom, I think that my time here will be like my visit to the park. There will be lots to experience and they will fill my senses. Yet there will be an underlying sadness that cannot be quenched- I miss my mum and dad too much. I will be shocked at the quietness and emptiness of my home at some points. I will be faced by staggering levels of pain and tears will be a friend. Even so, underlying that sadness is a hope I have. A hope of reunion in a perfect home where God is forever in our midst and all is made right. I just wish now that I could talk to my dad about this. 

Papa, I miss you so much.