The Letter Every Dead Dad Hopes His Daughter Will Write

May 26, 2014

Dear Dad, 

I feel melted inside- like if it weren’t for my bones holding up my frame, I would collapse into a puddle on the floor. It turns out there is nothing magically healing in the one year anniversary (eve) of your death like I truly hoped there would be. There is only the distinct replaying in my mind of every detail, every tremor of shock and gallon of tears that still leaves me numb and fumbling for the way. It’s all back, perhaps with greater perspective but with the same searing agony that makes me feel physically sick. 

I guess there are more moments when I remember you without crying, but today has been filled with other kinds of moments. I lit twenty matches in the wind trying to do sparklers with my kids. I watched beautiful red roses wilt on your grave. I was short with my husband. I made the long trek home from Hamilton while squinting through tears. I sat at the pool while my kids swam and all I could think about was how that was the last place I ever saw you, ever hugged you.

There is no timeline for grief. And if the measure of our love for someone determines the length and depth of our grief, then I know mine will never end. That is the kind of love we had… have. 

For three hundred sixty-four days I have struggled to come to grips with the fact that I will not see your face or your great big smile until I am in heaven, too. That is hard for me to wrap my mind around.  Every fiber of me misses you, but there is not a piece of me that doubts God ‘s undeniable goodness and that He is at work in ALL things, even this. Thank you for teaching me that, Dad. 

You were in every way an extension of Jesus Christ in my life. You were His hands and feet.  I will never believe that any earthly father ever loved his daughter more perfectly than you did. You loved me unconditionally and encouraged me every day of my life. When you died, I lost a tangible part of Jesus, and I think that is what makes it hurt all the more. 

When I find my thoughts drifting to you, I can’t help but thank God for you. I did nothing to deserve you. You were God’s greatest gift to a little girl who needed to grow up being told how special she was, how beautiful, how kind, funny, and how gifted she was. You did that so well and so often that I believed you. 

Every time I have gone on a walk this last year, I remember your presence next to me, talking and making a thousand memories. I still feel you pushing me on, encouraging me to run with perseverance the race set before me. And when the sun is shining warm on my face, I remember so much laughter and a lifetime of happiness with you in it. 

Thankfully, there was nothing unsaid between us. I know and have always known how much you adore and cherish me. And you knew and know how much you mean to me. No words on a page could ever describe what only a heart could say. 

Thank you for your indescribable love, for loving Marcus and our girls the same way, and for never giving me a bad memory of you. Thank you for standing behind me and picking me up out of my most bitter disappointments and heartbreaks. You were always the one who did that. (Wow, I need you now!) 

Thank you for loving mom as perfectly and as selflessly as a sinful man ever could. Thank you for doing everything you could to help anyone who needed it and for the many letters of encouragement to me, Travis, and countless others. Thank you for giving me roses a hundred times at least, and helping me understand that I was worthy of a man of God. 

Thank you for bringing JOY everywhere you went. I am fully aware that I might never laugh the way only you could make me laugh, and I will probably never light up quite the same way as I did when you were in the room. But I will ALWAYS carry JOY with me and the happy remembrance of 34 years I shared with an extraordinary man. 

Until Jesus calls me to come home, I will try every day to honor you, to honor Christ. I will try to love our family the way you did. And I know that I will never stop missing you, grieving you…loving you. I would not wish you back from where you are, well, maybe a little. But I know that your faith is now sight. You are seeing Jesus face to face.  I long to be there, too. 

Please listen out for when my name is called. I will be looking for you. My tears will have long dried out. My sadness will be no more. I will have my arms spread out wide and I’ll be running. 

I love you, 

M.G.

 “Therefore you too have grief now; but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you. “ John 16:22