Five Years

I've been thinking about my dad a lot this year. I always think about him, but he's just been on the forefront of my mind more. This September marks the fifth anniversary of his death. Five years is a long time. So much has happened. But, yet, the memory of him seems so much closer.

I have been missing him. Mainly, I've been missing him missing out on our lives. I know he doesn't feel that way. He is in perfect health, free from sin, and in the presence of Jesus (2 Corinthians 5:8). He is at home in every sense of the word. But for us here, we miss his presence, and, from our earthly perspective, he has missed out on so much. Both me and my sister got married the year after he passed away. He wasn't there to walk us down the aisle or dance with us at the reception. I have trouble imagining what that would have been like - what he would have said, if he would have teared up - and it's something my heart will never know. This is something I realized I have never truly grieved over until this year. In the moment of wedding planning and all the changes that go with getting married, the busyness hid the reality. I actually did not even know who was going to walk me down the aisle until the week of my wedding due to things going on amongst my relatives (which was painful for several reasons). As I was looking through our wedding album earlier this year, these things hit me. I wish it could have been different. I wish my dad could have been there. But he wasn't and I have to trust God's Word that He's working in that for my good (Romans 8:28).

And then there's Justus. I think that is what has really been prompting me to think about my dad. I wish he was here to meet him, play with him, know him. My dad loved babies and he would have loved Justus so much - enough to even travel to visit us here in AL (and my dad was not one to travel). Now I can only show Justus pictures and videos of his grandpa and hope that that somehow makes him think fondly of him down the road.

Loss is hard. Its effects are far reaching, rippling into events unforeseen and surprising you with grief when you least expect it. The passage of time helps. It gives perspective and distance, but it doesn't lessen the loss. The grief may not be as raw as it was five years ago, but sometimes the pain can be. But, as a Christian, I can grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Because Christ died and rose from the dead, I know that the same will be true of my dad. Because Jesus lives, he lives too. And one day we will worship Him together.

Photo Credit: Sarah Mesa Photography

Photo Credit: Sarah Mesa Photography