Missing My Dad

It’s been 6 months now since my dad died, but I still haven’t fully come to terms with it. I can’t even bring myself to take him off the speed dial on my home phone. In fact, I called his mobile today out of some morbid curiosity, wondering if it would take me to his familiar voicemail message. Of course, it didn’t. It took me to someone else’s mailbox which “has not been set up yet.” It bummed me out to realize that he would never again answer the phone.

Losing my dad has been harder than I even anticipated. I guess I thought it wouldn’t hit me so hard since he lived in another state and we didn’t talk as often as we used to. Maybe that’s what’s actually made it so difficult. My dad and I used to talk…a lot! At one time, we had long conversations several times a week. We genuinely enjoyed each other’s company because we had so much in common.

I recall my dad once stopping in the middle of one of our random discourses and saying, “I like the way we treat each other.” It really was kind of surprising because his sentimentality always came without warning. Most of the time he gave off an easygoing, devil-may-care attitude, so it touched me to hear him share how he perceived the nature of our relationship. I also saw it as a major win as I had taken a new approach with my dad rooted in the “love and respect” philosophy. I think my dad never felt particularly respected, and it could be argued that sometimes it was with good cause, but I wanted to try to show him unconditional respect as my father. It paid off. He got emotional with me and expressed how much he loved our relationship.

As a result, I saw his heart had softened in ways I rarely saw growing up, and it showed in how he would open up. He expressed regret over past mistakes and even tried to turn over a new leaf, taking action in ways I never thought I’d see. He received a great amount of praise from me as a result and he seemed genuinely proud of himself.

Then things changed and he started to make poor decisions again. It took a long time for me to fully understand the situation as he went to some lengths to keep the truth hidden from me. His fear of disappointing me manifested through coldness and a short fuse. Innocent questions would cause him to bark and even say hurtful words I couldn’t understand. In time, the closeness we shared was severed and I often wondered if it even mattered to him.

Fast forward to 8 months before he died. He video-called me on my birthday (he loved video chat more than anyone I know). I remember I was feeling a bit down that day but he said some very kind things, things I had waited a long time to hear. He made me cry. He brought up that he missed me and our relationship and told me I looked beautiful and all these kind things—things every girl wants to hear from her father.

3 months later I went on a trip for a family event that he too was attending. As fate would have it, we booked rooms right next to each other which allowed us some time to visit without distraction. One morning I came out to get some fresh air and he too exited his room. Out of the blue, he came over and gave me a hug and said sorry for what became of our relationship. He told me he never forgot how much we used to talk and that he missed our relationship and asked for my forgiveness. We had a wonderful time together on that trip. These two events were the beginning of healing, something I had longed for.

And so for the next few months, we talked more often and started to regain some of the closeness we had lost. We planned to see each other at another family gathering soon that he was very much looking forward to it. I knew he had health issues, but he still seemed so strong and competent. For that reason, I didn’t think much of it when he told me he came down with something. I talked to him on the phone and he seemed in decent spirits and the doctors were optimistic that he would recover in a few days.

We had a lovely conversation where he just asked me questions, wanting to know what I’d been up to. He said he was proud of me. Our final words in that conversation were “I love you” and I never talked to him again. He took a turn for the worse, had to be placed on oxygen, and went quickly thereafter.

We never did get to go on that family trip, instead, we were hosting his memorial. It was a wonderful time for me and my siblings to connect, but bittersweet knowing how much he would have enjoyed such an occasion. For all his faults, he did enjoy his family very much. He was proud of his kids.

I guess you could say that those previous conversations gave me a lot of peace I wouldn’t have had otherwise had he gone a year earlier. In fact, he almost died a couple of years prior and things were not nearly so sweet as they were when he passed. I can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t more at peace to go, but for me, it still left a hole in my heart, trying to reconcile the fact that my father no longer occupied his space on this planet. It signified missed opportunity. I would have liked for our relationship to have been even better, but I have a lot to be thankful for too.

Anyhow, this is all to say, I miss my dad. I miss him a lot. I’ve even had several dreams of him as of late where he seems very much like himself, the fun side of him that I enjoyed so much. It makes me wish there had been less of the bad things and more of the good. But that’s life. People are messy. Yet, we are called to love them through it, which I did to the best of my ability. And hopefully one day, all will be redeemed by the grace of God. That is my hope…our hope…for those in Christ Jesus.