Saying Goodbye

The last time I spoke to my dad was on Christmas Eve. While we were there he was wide awake. My seven-year-old Aydin gave him more hugs than usual and talked to him more than he played his video game. I sat by his side and we mostly just stared at each other because I guess there wasn’t anything more to say. I know that all my dad wanted was for God to call him home. The next time I saw him, he was no longer responsive and by the 28^th he quickly slipped away. I feel blessed that God took him before the dementia took his mind completely away from him; that he didn’t have to go through anything more than he already had. 

I still hurt. I hurt because it is one less person to love me. How selfish of me, but it’s true. In my selfishness, I’ve realized that I’ve been so concerned with how I love other people, I haven’t allowed or expected anyone to love me. On Sunday, I broke down twice. The first time Aydin came into my room to hug me and get me tissue. The second time, my nine-year-old Austin came into the kitchen and hugged me too. Later I realized that I feel like for the first time in Austin and Aydin’s life, they realized that I have feelings. The more I thought about it, I realized that I don’t think they are the only ones.

I realized that perhaps more people think of me as a “minister” already, a thought that never occurred to me before. Because in their attempts to console me, they were really just telling me about the grief they have experienced. And in response I am trying to give them encouraging words, when I really want to say is "I am hurting too." 

As I am trying to listen for what God needs me to hear, I realize that this life to come as a minister is going to be more of what I am experiencing at this moment. That I will be focused on loving other people and they will forget that I too have feelings. Perhaps they think I am God’s super woman and my faith is enough. Today there is no one who will call and ask how I am doing and will truly want a real answer, there is no one to sit by my side even if no words are said and there is no one to offer to bring over a meal so I don’t end up ordering take out for two weeks straight, and they certainly won’t be there tomorrow.  

Am I able to take on the life of a minister that loves her flock beyond what she will receive? I guess it seems as though I have already been living that life. God, I’m still listening.

Dad, I’m glad you are where you wanted to be, but I miss you. I miss how much you loved me.