I love my dad. I truly did not realize how deep my love for him ran in my blood until he died one year ago - way too soon. I miss him so much. I miss you, Dad.
This is a true story.
To our shock and devastation my dad got lung cancer and it went to his bones. It was a slow and fast 8 months watching my gentle father face this disease, and ultimately watching it take him over.
It was a beautiful, horrible experience living and loving Dad those 8 months. My love went into full gear to physically be with him, ride the emotional tsunamis, and spiritually plead before the throne of grace for him. In the end God showed me that Dad’s faith in Jesus Christ alone for his salvation was sure, but that his physical body and life would not be spared.
Just prior to my dad learning that he had cancer, a friend of mine from church found out that her husband had cancer. He was the same age as my dad. He died a few months before my dad and I remember my friend telling me that God had given her the most beautiful dreams about her and her husband; to the point that she would wake up laughing because they were having so much fun together. She told how much these dreams encouraged her. After my daddy died, I secretly hoped God would give me a dream like that – but I certainly didn’t hold Him to it. After all, He’s so unique and creative that I figured he would soothe my soul the way it needed to be soothed.
Much to my delight and surprise I woke yesterday morning feeling so warmly loved. God gave me a dream about my dad! If I had to name it, it would be called, “Last Dance, Daddy.” I wrote it all down as soon as I woke up. I’d like to share it with you.
Thank you for my dream last night, Lord. It was about Dad and me. It made me feel so warm and loved and cherished and needed. There was reality and pain, too. The reality of cancer was still in Dad’s body. The pain of the unwelcomed anticipation of his death and of time ticking away was there, so I had to enjoy the dance and absorb my daddy's warmth.
Dad and I were dancing…as if it were my wedding reception. The room was very crowded with tables and guests. It was inside, but it was outside. It was my wedding reception to Dad and me, but I didn’t wear a wedding dress and he was kind of just out of the hospital; still sick, patchy hair, tired. To the other people at the party there was another occasion being celebrated, but it wasn’t unusual that Dad and I were dancing there. It was like we were soaking in this last dance because we knew the inevitable was coming, and we just needed each other’s love; to breathe it in and bottle it up.
So we danced close and I touched Dad’s head and hair and I got to kiss his unshaven face and tenderly cradle the back of his head, and hug cheek to cheek. He loved me and I could just feel it. I just knew it.
It was natural to be with dad in this place, even though our dance was awkward. We bumped into tables with our legs. It was tight in the room; anyone would have bumped into tables. We didn’t care, though; we just wanted to draw in as much love for each other that we could. People watched us with tenderness and care, but we weren’t the focus of attention by any stretch, nor did we want to be. We knew it was a little unusual to be dancing here in this place at this time. No one else was dancing. I don’t even think there was any music playing. But we had to dance; this we knew. It was the deepest way we could revel in each other’s love in these, our last moments together.
He got tired and we had to sit down on a bench. He leaned into me and I got to just be with my dad; to just feel the warmth of his body next to mine; life next to life, love next to love. I got to care for him, hug, touch, talk, stroke his head. Precious. Beautiful.
I woke up feeling so loved, so useful, so accepted, so satisfied; but still – feeling such a longing for it to be different; that my dad would still be here on this earth with me so I could enjoy the light of his face, warmth of his smile, music in his voice, and sparkle in his eye. I really do miss him so much.
I’m much more settled inside; not nearly as fragile and broken. I accept the reality of death, and cheer for God’s victory over it. But my life is so not the same; so not the same. Yet I thank you God, today, for one last dance with my daddy. It sure did mean a lot to me that You would give me such a heart-felt gift. I sure didn’t expect or demand it, Lord, but you gave it anyways because you are such a kind and thoughtful Father. You are THE powerful warrior who is triumphant over death – both spiritual and physical, and yet you are so tender and careful to attend to our deepest needs and wounds.
How thankful I am for the opportunity to submit my true story to the She Speaks Conference in North Carolina
http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/03/how-christians-create-art-she-speaks-scholarship/
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