April 28, 2025
486 days without you
Hi Dad,
I know you’ll be happy to hear this—I’m sorry I haven’t written to you recently, but I’ve been busy actually being happy, continuing on with my life, doing all the things healing people are supposed to be doing. This sounds so cliche, but I’ve been busy healing, which is wild to say because this time last year I never would’ve thought that was possible. But here I am, still aching for you every day, but I’m able to see things clearer now. I’m able to be happy, to be grateful for all we’ve been through.
Grateful may seem like an odd word choice given I’m writing to my father who passed after an exhausting battle with cancer, but I truly think it’s the best word to describe where I’m at right now. I was chatting with my therapist two weeks ago about this—about the idea of being grateful for the most difficult and heart-wrenching situation I’ll probably ever endure (God, I hope it doesn’t get harder than that). I think my gratefulness stems directly from God’s goodness and how he chose to repair our relationship. I know I’ve talked about this plenty, but I’ll never stop telling people about how kind God was to us to completely heal our relationship before you were diagnosed.
The thing about God is that he has every right to be jealous and selfish (why he would be jealous and selfish for us, I’ll never wrap my head around). He designed us, gave us breath, and planned all of our steps. It is 100% within his rights as our maker and father to keep us all to himself. During my freshman year of college when I had no relationship with you, I vividly remember thinking that God was the only father figure I needed. I didn’t need an earthly dad when I had a heavenly one. And if God were anyone else, he probably would have loved hearing he was my one and only, everything I’d ever want or need from a father. But he’s not anyone else; he’s God. Out of his selflessness, God chose to send his spirit to work in our hearts to heal our earthly father-daughter relationship. God didn’t need to do that. He could have kept me all to himself, letting me despise my earthly father and only wanting my heavenly one, but he didn’t. When he had every right to let us sit in our sin and anger and keep me all to himself, he allowed complete and total restoration. He knew what we needed, and he didn’t withhold a good thing from us. Praise God we serve a savior who goes beyond personal feelings and gives us what we need even when we don’t know it. (This realization made my therapist cry happy tears by the way—the first time that’s happened!). Because of what he’s done, I can anxiously await the day I’ll run to your arms in heaven, Dad, and we can worship our heavenly father together.
That leads me to the question—what’s the point of all this anyway? What’s the point of thinking back on our relationship and making all of these connections after it’s all said and done? While our story is done (for now), I know there are so many people like me who have broken relationships with loved ones who are stuck in the cycle of being angry and hurt and disappointed, who think there’s no hope. My goal with all of these letters (beside just being able to vent and process with you, Dad), is that maybe some day, someone will read these, and they’ll no that healing broken relationships is possible with God. We are not too far gone for redemption. If God can turn dust into life, surely he can, and will continue to, change hearts, minds, and relationships. I’ve experienced it first hand. Don’t count out people you don’t think will change or even have a desire to have a relationship with. Nothing is too broken that he can’t fix.
