Wedding toasts

Ever since he died, I have been unable to endure the Father of the Bride toast at weddings. He was unable to do such a toast at my wedding because he was just too sick. Last weekend I attended a beautiful wedding of a colleague. When her father stood up to deliver the toast, I tried to distract myself, mindlessly scrolling facebook. And then his voice broke just a little and at that moment I excused myself until the toast was over. I would like to say this has become easier over the years and in some ways it has. But this year just feels different. 17 years. He has been gone for 17 years. The anniversary of his death is marked by the birth of my 1st son. 17 years ago. Exactly 3 weeks, almost to the minute and hour. One Brad died and one was born.

Time marches on

Maybe 17 years feels so hard because my son is becoming a man, entering his last year of high school. And my dad has missed so much. 4 more grandchildren. High school graduations, games, band concerts, adoptions. Numerous family gatherings, weekends at the lake. My brother and I’s successes and failures. Missed opportunities to provide life advice.

No choice

Those who are closest to me know the circumstances surrounding my father’s death. Years of poor lifestyle choices suddenly ended his life at 57-years-old. As I reflect on those final years of his life, I saw it coming. But there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to stop it. Sometimes I find myself still a little angry at the choices he made that took him so early. But then I’m reminded he had a terrible disease that had such a stronghold over him that he lacked the ability to choose. I believe in my heart that if he had been able to chose us, he would have.

Saying goodbye

I often wonder what would be harder, losing someone you love suddenly or knowing that someone’s days are limited. I’ve witnessed both firsthand in my work as a palliative care nurse practitioner and frankly both are difficult. I am thankful that when it was his time, that he went quickly, that we didn’t have to make the difficult decisions. God decided that for us. But sometimes I wish I had more time to say things I needed to say, to say goodbye. To tell him I don’t blame him. To thank him for being such a good father and challenging me to the best I can be. He showed me what it looked like to work hard and with heart. And he showed me what kind of husband and marriage I wanted to have. And I would thank him for chosing my mother who without, my path would have looked quite different. I would tell him once more that I love him.

The number 17

I have found myself surprised at my grief this anniversary. 17 years. Why is 17 significant? Is there meaning in the number 17? As I researched this I discovered that the number 17 signals a chance for positive change. It symbolizes letting go of past hurts through forgiveness and finding purpose and determination. This is a pivotal year for me. And sometimes pain is necessary for growth.

Grief

17 years. I still cry sometimes when I think of him and everything that could have been. But I am reminded that the grief and the experience of loss is a part of life. It makes me stronger. It makes me a better clinician, a better human. Because of the grief and loss I have experienced, I am able to sit with others in their loss and truly be present. God recently layed John 1:5 on my heart. John 1:5 reads, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkenss has not overcome it.” While this verse refers to Jesus overcoming the enemy it reminds me that I have a choice. I can allow the darkness of the loss of my father to overcome me. Or I can choose to see the light, the good things that have continued to come forth even during some of the darkest moments. And for that I am grateful.