Dad died six years today. We are still learning to live in this world without him, still learning how to be a family without him. I took him for granted, even though I loved him so very much. I didn’t realise - despite knowing that he was home, that he was safety - when he died not only would our lives change, but our family, too. It seems naïve not to have expected it; the loss of our family as we knew it. He was always there. I don’t remember ever being away from him. And more than a father, a husband, he was a dear friend to each of us. When he left us, the family dynamic that had always been, was no more. Six years on and we are still learning, still trying, still tender from the blow.
I am so grateful for the life I have. I have been saved time and time again. I am so grateful for my mother, my home, my brother, my friends, the children I love, my cats and all of the blessings God has seen fit to give me. But life without my dad, in the flesh, can sometimes feel less. It isn’t ingratitude, just the way it is. A life without dad could only be less. He brought so much to my life; such joy, such wisdom, such laughter and kindness. He wasn’t perfect, and he made so many mistakes. But his goodness far outweighed the bad. And if I could have him back I would go through it all again with him.
But after six years without him, for the first time, I am also grateful that he died and didn’t have to suffer anymore. When people say, just after you have lost someone to a terrible, devastating illness, that you should take comfort in the fact that they are no longer suffering, it provokes pain and anger; you don’t want to hear philosophy. The words feel empty and meaningless, even if they are not. You are drowning in your grief, your pain, your heartbreak at ever having to watch them suffer and die. The fact that they are finally dead and the suffering has stopped brings you no comfort. The fact remains that they did suffer, they did die, and you were powerless to stop it. Your injury is deep and cuts you to your soul. You cannot bring them back, and you cannot undo what they went through. Such words never help and produce nothing but frustration and resentment towards the well-intended, ignorant speaker, even if they are someone you love and even if what they are saying is true.
As it turns out, it is a truth that you have to come to understand and believe in your own time. I didn’t think I would ever find comfort in it. But now, six years since he died, as I think of all that he went through, on his life, and in those cruel nine months, I am finally comforted that it ended, that his suffering stopped, and that his spirit became free from his poor, sick body.
‘They are just suits that we wear’ he always told me. And he was right. When I found him, his body without his spirit, despite the pain and heartbreak, I could see with my own eyes, that what he had told me was true. He is free now, and one day we will know that same freedom. But until then we carry on, learning to live without his suit, and reminding ourselves that his spirit, his love, is still surrounding us, day and night. It’s not the same, never could be, never would be, but just as we carry on, we carry his love and our love, and have faith that whatever might happen tomorrow, that love will carry us through the good times and the bad.
I love you my daddy. Forever. Forever.
