My father passed away on January 19, 2015.
Yes, this year.
Yes, just yesterday.
Yet, you will not see acknowledgment of it from me on social media or anywhere else but in my closest circle, and…well, this blog.
Why?
Because it has been over 24 years since I had spoken to or seen the man.
But I still struggled with his passing.
When my brother let me know that our father had taken a turn for the worse, that he was on a ventilator in the ICU and that he was in his last days, I had to make a decision about whether or not I wanted to reach out to him; whether or not I wanted to say my goodbye’s.
So I did what I always do in these situations, I talked it over with my man. Yet, even after we reached a dual consensus that since the history between my father and me was so murky and since, I had, (essentially) already said my goodbyes years ago that it wasn’t necessary for me to torture myself any longer. Things were already done. Long ago.
I needed to let it go.
But still, I couldn't.
And he died alone. There was no one there holding his hand or consoling him, as he passed from this world into wherever we go from here. His other half was out running errands for the both of them. And I have never felt right about letting anyone die alone.
I needed to let it go.
But still, I couldn't.
And he died alone. There was no one there holding his hand or consoling him, as he passed from this world into wherever we go from here. His other half was out running errands for the both of them. And I have never felt right about letting anyone die alone.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel nothing and to feel something all at the same time.
But I did.
In my moments of struggle, I reached out to a few people closest to me and was very blunt. I said that my father was passing and that I felt like I should feel something, but I just didn’t. I asked, point blank, if that made me a horrible person.
For those that knew the story, for those that knew how badly my father treated me, and for those who knew why we hadn’t spoken in 24 years, they all told me no.
But I still struggled with it. Deeply.
Tears welled in my eyes. I just wasn’t sure what to do.
I texted my pastor, asking for prayer. It was 10:30 pm on January 18. He said he would pray for me. I asked a few of my closest friends to do the same. My friends, being the awesome people they are, said they would do just that.
At 11:00 pm, after shedding a few tears, and after my own talk with the man upstairs, their prayers (and mine) were answered. I was granted the most precious of gifts, something I had been craving for years when it came to that man: peace.
The next morning, I woke up to an announcement from my brother letting the digital world know that our father had passed away.
I guess, at some point on January 19, while I had been gifted peace all my own, my father was also given peace all his own. And honestly? I am grateful for both.
I guess the point is that sometimes the damage people inflict is so bad, that sometimes the scars become so deeply ingrained in who we are that even though you have forgiven those who caused your pain, death is always a constant reminder that time is fleeting.
While we all think we have time to make peace with one another, to say our last few words before we draw that last breath, we don’t. Not really. Because, if 2014 taught me anything at all, it is that tomorrow is not a gift promised to us, it’s just something we get…if we are lucky.
However, even when we bestow forgiveness for an apology that never came, even when some people draw that last breath without us by their side, the best gift we can pray for is peace; for ourselves and for them. And knowing that such an incredible thing such as upwardly granted peace is a gift that can only be given from above; it’s a gift we can only accept within ourselves...when we are ready. But I can say, from my own experience, that peace is the most precious gift of all.
And finally, after 24 years of turmoil for both myself and my father, today we were both miraculously granted that gift. We both received peace. Finally. And I am deeply thankful for that.
Never, ever, ever forget that peace is the most joyous of gifts, because peace is the one thing that each one of our souls craves in the deepest of ways.
Wherever you are, whoever you are, may you find yours.
Much Love,
Miss Adventures
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