Grief is a funny thing. It is very unpredictable, choosing
to come and go as it pleases. It leaves as quickly and unexpectedly as it
arrives. Just when I think I have a handle on it, another curveball is thrown
my way and I realize I know very little about this thing called grief.
It’s been a year and a half since daddy died and I’m still
writing about it. I know I’ll never stop processing/writing as long as I’m
alive, but I hope to someday be able to venture into other topics, processes,
thoughts, etc. I have a lot to say about a lot of things, but in this season, I
feel the greatest urgency to write when I’m processing about daddy. There has
to be a reason for that. If nothing else, I hope my words and experience(s) can
encourage and bring hope to someone.
Daddy tends to show up in my dreams every now and then. He
was there last night. I don’t remember very many details about the dream, but I
remember the feeling of enjoying his goofy presence again with sister. I woke
up missing him, but thankful for that small reminder of how it feels to hug
that teddy bear of a man. I went about my morning, but as I was sitting in the
awful 360 traffic, the grief instantly and unexpectedly hit me like a tidal
wave. Ironically, Hillsong United’s “Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)” was playing.
“I
will call upon Your name and keep my eyes above the waves when oceans rise.”
As I was attempting to sing through
the lump in my throat, I felt daddy. “Brief” would be an overstatement as it
was literally less than a second, faster than a blink. He was singing with me.
He was worshipping with me. Then he was gone; back to being a memory and a
reunion I look forward to every single day of my life. I could feel myself
wanting to sink back into mourning and sadness. I just miss him so much.
Then, the “Desert Song” started
playing.
“All
of my life, in every season, You are still God. I have a reason to sing; I have
a reason to worship.”
The Holy Spirit is funny with his
reminders. I had to make the decision to choose joy. I had to choose to be
thankful over pity. How could I not be thankful? I had the unconditional love
of a daddy that not everybody gets to experience, a daddy who would give up his
own life for his daughters. Even in the midst of all the darkness his
alcoholism brought, I never once doubted his love for me. Not many people can
say that, let alone, children of alcoholics. Therefore, it would be unfair to
daddy’s legacy to not choose joy. I have grace to grieve when it comes over me,
but I have a responsibility to choose joy and to keep choosing joy time and
time again.
Grief is a funny thing, but joy is
who I am.
