The days following my father’s death and burial have been punctuated with both ordinariness and bouts of sadness. I’ve been busy with all sorts of obligations and appointments and busyness. But then out of nowhere the sadness hits again. It’s the worst at night, when my mind is free to wander, and I realize anew that I won’t be seeing Dad here on earth again. It’s a fact that I still can’t seem to wrap my mind around. I know it’s true, but somehow the reality of it needs to sink in again and again. Dad isn’t coming back. It’s final. I think it’s the finality that I hate the most.
We moved to our current town five years ago, just so we could be close to my parents. We found a house about 10 minutes away, so it was easy to drop by and see them whenever. Going over to Mom’s house is very difficult for me now, since there are so many reminders of Dad everywhere. His tractor, his truck, his clothes, his office, shelves he built by hand, projects he was in the middle of…it all reminds me of him and I experience a fresh wave of grief almost every time I’m there.
Despite the sadness that surprises me at times when I’m not expecting it, I’m thankful for the peace that I’ve experienced through it all. And one of my greatest blessings has been the love and support of my husband and children.
My children have been a bright ray of sunshine in the midst of the darkness. They have loved on me, cried with me, prayed for me, and made me laugh when I was most needing it. The night following my Dad’s death, my youngest came up to me where I was laying on the bed crying, and he gently patted my arm with his little hand. “It’s too bad Papa Bob had to die,” he said sadly. Then he climbed up in the bed with me and we just cuddled together for a long time. Oh, his warm little body made me feel so comforted. It’s one of the sweetest memories I have of this difficult time.
“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.” ~Anne Bradstreet
Even after the death of a much-loved father, life must go on. There are meals to be cooked, a house to clean, lessons to be taught, errands to run, and children and husband to love on.
And spring is coming. The beautiful blossoms erupting all around our yard remind me that brighter days are here, and the winter will be past. Of course the sorrow will still be there, but it’s easier to bear in the sunshine and warmth than in the dreariness and cold. At least that’s how I feel. I’m ready to put this winter behind me and welcome brighter days.
Spring is definitely my favorite season, with all of the new life and beauty all around. The sky lately has looked just like a watercolor painting, which inspires me immensely. And I love that we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus during this season. What a hopeful time of year!
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.
In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” ~1 Peter 1:3-7 ESV
P.S. Here’s what I’m listening to as I type these words: David Nevue playing Hand in Hand and also The Acceleration of Time. Both kind of melancholy, but both favorite songs. ♥
Goodness gracious! I just lost my father too, on February 23, and his name was Bob! I am very sad about the finality of it all as well. I just keep thinking that I don't want it to be this way – I want him back here. Foolish and childish, I know, but I'm giving it some time.
Oh, I'm so sorry to hear you lost your father also. My dad passed away February 29th. And, yes, his name was Bob! I can so relate to your desire to have him back—I feel the same way. It's not foolish or childish, I think it's just a natural part of grief. {{Hugs}} ♥Joy
Dear Joy, welcome back. Your Dad's memory is like a sweet melody that will be with you in your everyday life devoted to your beautiful family.
A big hug,
Franca
Thank you so much, Franca. ♥Joy
Thank you for sharing your beautiful photographs, and your hope and encouragement, Joy. Continuing to pray for you and your family, x.
Thank you, Gwen, and thanks for praying. ♥Joy
Dear Joy,
I don't have experience with losing a parent yet, but I have lost a baby (4 months pregnant). Another mom who had walked that path before me wisely encouraged me with these words…"the living call us". It helped me be present with my children in spite of my grief. Anyway, I hope that encourages you too. I'm praying for you.
Love,
Carol
That's a good word, Carol, about the living calling us. So true. Thank you so much for the encouragement and the prayers. ♥Joy