Embracing the Pain // Four Years

Hello everyone, 

Today it's been four years. 

Four years since the first man I ever loved passed into the arms of Jesus.

I normally don't write heavy blog posts, and by no means do I want attention or pity; I just wanted to talk about this day, and my blog seemed like a good place to do that. 

As a child, I grew up in a Christian home. I attended church and AWANA weekly, read my Bible and said my prayers, and truly did believe God created this earth and Christ died for us. But I had it easy! My parents were amazing and so loving, my brothers and I got along well and did all sorts of fun things together, I had good friends, a beautiful place to live, food and water, clothing. My life was great! I think I really took it for granted.

On February 4th, 2010, my dad was diagnosed with AML (Acute myeloid leukemia) Cancer had invaded my father's body and I was terrified. Months of treatment, hospital visits, tears, cafeteria food, and waiting began. Every day was filled with new hope, and new terror. But as the months dragged on, that hope began to dwindle, and on March 19th, 2011, my dad took his last breath. 

I often try to reflect on what it was like before this awful surprise hit my family. 

I remember how, whenever I went bowling, my dad would try to teach me all these techniques on how to bowl better. Our favorite one was to puff air out of our mouths in hope it would push the ball along and get me a strike. I don't know if it ever worked, but I sure used to get a lot more strikes with dad around. 

I remember looking out my window and seeing my dad walking around in his red and black plaid shirt and cowboy hat. He was always chopping wood or working on something else around the house. It is so weird how the things you miss most are the little things.

I remember his giant bear hugs, the way his whiskers felt on my cheek when he kissed me goodnight, all the conversations we had on our father-daughter dates. I remember the love that sparkled in his eyes when he was around us, the way he looked at my mom with such deep affection, his quiet guitar strumming as we tried to fall asleep. 

To be honest, though, I don't like trying to remember all the good things, because before I can focus on all the wonderful memories, my mind goes to death. 

Pain, tears, death. That's what I remember most.

I remember countless visits to the hospital and it becoming my second home. I remember seeing my dad always sleeping because he was in such serious pain. I remember crying almost every day because everything that was happening was so unfair. I remember the evening before my dad died, not wanting to let go. I remember people's look of pity at the funeral while I held to my eldest brother’s shirt, bawling into his chest. 

Remembering these things brings me pain, so I try not to remember them. I attempt to block out the most life-changing event that ever happened to me, and sometimes, I succeed.

I succeed at blowing out all of the bad memories, but along with the bad memories go the good memories, so I'm left with either embracing the pain or forgetting everything all together.

My dad doesn't deserve that! 

He deserves to be remembered for how loving he was. For what an amazing father he was to us kids. He deserves to be remembered for how sacrificial he was--working day in and day out just for my family! Even when he was sick, he would try to get things done around the house. He deserves to be remembered as an inspiration. No one has inspired me more than my father. He loved and served Christ through his entire walk with cancer and modeled so much faith to us kids. 

My dad doesn't deserve to be forgotten just because I don't want to remember the pain.

The thing is, pain is a part of life. It doesn't matter who you are, you're going to go through something that is tough, no matter what. We live in a fallen, broken world where pain and suffering have infested themselves everywhere. Even so, I know God is in the midst of it, ready to come alongside of us and carry us through all of life's hardships. 

So in the end, I want to embrace the pain. I know that someday I will be reunited with my dad, and that brings me hope! I don't need to be afraid to face the pain of the past, for Christ is there to comfort me through whatever comes my way.

"But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,

    Whose confidence is in him.

 They will be like a tree planted by the water

    That sends out its roots by the stream.

It does not fear when heat comes;

    Its leaves are always green.

It has no worries in a year of drought

    And never fails to bear fruit."

-Jeremiah 17:7-8

With much love,

Elizabeth