The number of years goes up one by one and as they increase it feels as if my pain is suppose to decrease. But with one tv show scene of death or a lyric full of pain coming through my car door speakers, the lingering sting of losing my dad or of losing anyone comes barging through the entry once again.
They warn you about the days after, the weeks, even the first year. But they don’t warn you about the moments when you are almost fifteen years in and still find yourself scribbling “I wish he was here” into your journal in the late hours of the night.
I’m becoming someone. Someone who I think the Lord has intended for me to be all along. I’m stepping into something. Something I think the Lord knew I would do all along. I’m learning what it means. Learning what it means for me to not only let the Lord take His rightful place as The Father but learning what it means for me to take my rightful place as a daughter and to dare to enter into a father-daughter relationship with Him. Something that has been unexplored to me and such a mystery due to losing my dad at such a young age.
These defining moments are the ones that come blazing in marking us, changing us. These defining moments and all defining moments are the moments that it feels like someone took the place where something is missing and splattered painted it so it was all the more obvious.
They say the first year is the hardest. But the truth is they are all hard. The years past. They increase and before you know it a decade has passed. You have graduated high school. You have gotten your license. You have gone on your first date. You have had birthday after birthday. It’s not that the pain decreases. The pain just learns how to hide. It hides so well that you forget about it. But one little trigger sends it right back to the surface and you are reminded it’s still there.
I wish someone would have warned me about the years to come. I wish someone would have told me that as time passes the loss doesn’t become irrelevant. I wish someone would have told me that just because time has passed I don’t have to justify the hard days.
This is for you.
All you people who have written the blog posts and preached about the healing you have experienced. All you people who are known for what you went through and how you kept the faith. All you people who have found bits and pieces of the why and even found purpose in the pain.
This is for all you fighters with your scraped knees and sore throats who have made it this far leaving trails of perseverance and shouting praises of His faithfulness.
This is for you.
Because they don’t warn you about year fourteen. They don’t warn you that even after so much time you can still get tired of it all.
You don’t have to be ashamed when the pain comes out of hiding. You don’t have to be ashamed when the wound is ripped wide open again. What you do have to do is let remembrance be the healing ointment you use to relieve the pain.
He has gotten you this far. He won’t start failing you now.
But come and sit a while if you need to.
There might be some tears. It’s a strange thing isn’t it? The fact that no matter how long it has been there seems to still be tears in you. Oh how I pray that you know that those who weep are those who grow to see. May the tears bring a new perception of Jesus.
Come and sit and lets just remember all that Jesus has done over the years.
I believe that remembering all that He has done will remind us of all He is able to do and will produce an expectation for what is to come. I believe that remembering will propel us forward. I believe that remembering will be the crutches that we can use to hold us up when we don’t think we can make it anymore.
You are going to make it but you will get winded. Stop and catch your breath. It’s okay for you to grow weary and tired of it. No matter how long it has been.
It is an open invitation today.
Day 1.
Year 2.
Year 25.
Come, lets sit.
