In early August, my dad got sick with Covid. In September, he was intubated. In October, he passed away.
I’ve been grieving in a way since the beginning of September but, even now as it’s been more than a month since his passing, there are still so many moments where it all just feels like a bad dream.
My grief is compounded by the continued grief of infertility. I don’t know how it works, but my heart breaks and aches for the lives that should have been but are not. The grandkids my dad would have known had we gotten pregnant almost 5 years ago when we started trying. I deal with grief daily.
But in the process of losing my dad and thinking about the grandchild he will have one day, God taught me something.
I understand God the Father and his relationship with the Son more than I ever would have while my dad was still living.
In his telling of the gospel story, the Apostle John shares many conversations with Jesus that went like this:
Jesus was of his Father – he shared his identity as part of the Trinity, trusted his heart, represented him to the world.
When Jesus said all these things, I always thought of him as more of a messenger for God the Father – revealing him by sharing the common goal Father, Son, and Spirit had. But through the loss of my dad, I’ve realized it goes much deeper than that.
As I think about how my children will know my dad, I realize it will only be through me. They will not get to sit on their granddad’s lap or have him tease them at the dinner table. They won’t see their granddad tease their grandma, hear him calling her “Mar-Bear.”
The only way my children will know my dad is through me.
They’ll see me lovingly tease them, sing the praises of ice cream, sit them down to have heart-felt conversations. They’ll see me work hard, be honest, and do my best to do all things with integrity. When I sing them to sleep, I’ll sing them the song my dad sang to me.
I’ll share stories about a kind man who wanted everyone to know Jesus, who woke up at 5am to go to church in downtown Dallas with the homeless, who took his entire family to share the gospel in Colombia, who loved fishing and his house on the lake.
They’ll only know that man through me; through not only what I tell, but in the ways I reflect him.
I wouldn’t be me without him. To know me is to know a small part of him.
When I started leaving the house on my own as a teen, my dad would tell me, “Remember who your Father is!” because he wanted me to represent him well.
I will always remember who my Father is, and I endeavor to represent both him and my Heavenly Father well for all of my days.