Separate Ways

People are never sure what to say, and yet they feel compelled to address the loss of a loved one. It comes out in many ways, but the majority of them are the “I’m sorry”. There is then, that awkward silence because the person grieving isn’t sure what to say. “Thank you” isn’t appropriate, who really is ever thankful to losing someone they are close to and love deeply?

And so, the silence continues until the subject changes or the two in conversation walk away. The majority of those that are grieving don’t want a reminder that their loved one is no longer here, as they are trying to simply put one foot in front of the other, living each day by just going through the motions. Yet, all their friends still feel obligated to say something, constantly reminding them what they are already trying to process. That their loved one is simply not here, that they are unable to hear their voice, unable to hold a conversation with them, or simply unable to feel them by the embrace of a hug.

It is in death that we understand the precious gift that life truly is. It is in death that we understand that our time on earth is just a moment in the big scheme of things, and yet we continue to take every breath for granted. We assume that we will be able to take our next breath as our lungs release the one we already took. We assume where we should not. We are never guaranteed anything, and yet we assume we are guaranteed something that is so vital to our existence.

Our breath is what gives us life; it is part of our essence, part of our soul. There is a reason our Creator in order to give life to Adam and Eve had to breathe life into them. We were created with a soul, with a spirit; in Hebrew the word behind spirit is ruach, meaning “moving air”. It is this same word that gives us the word “breath” which in turn is what gives us life. It is with this same breath we are told to rejoice, to pray and to give thanks in all circumstances because it is God’s will for us. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18) Yet, in the midst of losing a father, a husband, a grandfather giving thanks, praying and praising Him is one of the last things I wish to do.

I do not hold hatred towards the Creator, but praising someone in the mist of losing someone so dear is one of the last things I can find myself doing. I see a God that loves tremendously, that is just, and can perform miracles if He so wishes to do so, which He has done many times in my father’s life. And yet, for some reason that is unknown, He chose not to perform another miracle for my father to remain in our presence here on earth.

I have a hard time finding myself rejoicing and praising His name in the mist of knowing my daddy will not be a part of the things I so desperately wish he would be a part of. He will not be around to walk me down the isle, to watch me get married or meet his grandchildren - if I am blessed to have any of things. Instead, if that day comes I will find myself walking down the isle alone, because I cannot foresee anyone that could take the place of my father. I find myself with a mixture of jealousy and anger. Anger, because I know that the special moment in a females life where the father dances with his daughter is no longer an opportunity I will have. Jealousy, in which I wish was nonexistent in me towards those that still have both their parents, Jealousy of a sister, whom I love dearly, that had the opportunity to have the father/daughter dance that I know, when the time comes for myself, I will desperately crave and never have.

And yet, in the midst of it all I am glad to know my father is in a better place. To know he is pain free, walking on both feet while watching over each of us and praising our Creator in the same breath.

Unfortunately I wish that better place was a lot closer in which I could see him, talk to him, and hug him.