In full disclosure, the last couple of months have been a wild ride. Dad fell asleep here and woke up there in early November, and my father-in-law did the same a few weeks ago. People have asked me how I’m doing and how we’re getting along and I’m honest with them. Things are fine.
Yeah, they really are. Maybe better than fine in some regard. My Dad, a routine and continual servant, headed home to be with the Lord just before his multiple cancers turned super ugly. He was spared that nastiness, yet had extra time here with us. He did plenty with his “bonus time” as well. My father-in-law was not well for quite a while, and was pretty much ready to go at the time his bride of 42 years died 3 years ago. For these gentlemen, to be called home was a kindness I truly embraced. I’m happy for them. Truly.
And when I say that, a ton of folks either assume I’m putting up a fence or lying. That is not the case. I’m not blubbering around and wallowing in tears and torment. I think that might be hard for some folks to understand.
Additionally, I’m not callous or hard in any particular way. My empathy, which has traditionally been acute, is in full bloom. I’m not waking up crying or feeling out of place when at family gatherings. These men’s absence of presence is neither causing me a stumbling block I can readily identify nor offering residual pain.
But… There are things I’ve noticed that I can’t seem to tackle, and I’m not sure how to explain them. A good example would be the contacts on my smartphone. There are 8,179 contacts on my phone. I have 19 “starred” favorites. My Dad’s cell phone is among them. He’s been gone for over two months now from this side of the gap. Yet, I don’t have the guts to delete his contact information. …And I mean it. I’ve tried a few times now to open that contact and delete it, but I cannot bring myself to do it.
Maybe it stems from all the conversations we had together, and how many hours we logged each week visiting on the phone. I’m guessing that has to be part of it. I mean, let’s be real here… Logically, there is nothing keeping that number and contact around tends to serve. But, boy oh boy, did my psyche get heavy as lead when I hovered my thumb over the delete button.
I must not be ready for whatever this roadblock is. I was ready for rough stuff, the funeral, the interactions with so many people surrounding his passing, the planning, the execution of duties, the family gatherings and holidays after, etc. You name it, I was and still am pretty darned mentally healthy. But this phone contact thing has proven to me that despite my ability to perform under duress, behave with compassion, lend thought and caring to others, and generally find myself aligned with Scripture, I’m not as well-fashioned as I fancied.
I know this now. And I know I know it. If someone deleted Dad’s contact information from my phone, I’d just about birth a bull calf over it. I’m sensitive about it, and I can’t explain it. I suppose in cases like this, I must commune with the Lord over it, do my level best to ask the Spirit to fill my heart, and then avoid being so ignorant and silly as to fill that space with inconsequential things instead.
I thought I was doing exceedingly well with loss. Turns out, I’m just doing ok. 6 or 7 years ago I wrote about loss in a blog titled, “A Grief Observed” which stemmed from a paradox offered by C.S. Lewis. And I lifted this quote from him, which changed my life forever: “I thought I trusted the rope until it mattered to me whether it would bear me. Now it matters, and I find I didn’t.”
This isn’t the questioning of one’s faith, as may have been the case for Jack. But it is a solemn reminder that we’re not as tough as we think. I’m not. Neither are you. Which is precisely why we need Him. We’re often best suited for the joys and sorrows in life based on where we willingly place ourselves. For me that boils down to the company I keep and the literature I read. Go read that “…Grief…” blog. See what you notice. I’m not a hard guy to figure out. My writing style and mood both fluctuate wildly based on what I’m reading at the time. You can tell I’ve been in pretty deep, and we’re not talking about comic books and graphic novels… And that’s ok because I zoom back out to the shoring of my Faith and giving it to Him. At least I try.
Maybe Jack didn’t trust the rope. It turns out I’m good at loss, but not great.
But the Almighty loves me despite my innumerable flaws. Be salt and light my friends. Please.
