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Dream State April 10, 2008
by Debra
Shirley
It is said that there are many stages of grief: Anger, Regret, Despair, Acceptance, and Living. But it’s been almost four weeks since I lost my daddy, and I’m not experiencing any of those. Instead, I’m stuck in Death cheats us of life with someone we love, and right now I’m feeling cheated. Even though God blessed me with many wonderful months that the doctor said we should not have, I still feel cheated. So I’ll live in my dream where the great cheater, death, is not allowed. It’s a strange place this Dream State. Some people would call it Denial, and that’s understandable for me because I’m the Queen of Denial. I live in a constant state of pretending everything is okay. If there is stress in my life, I pretend it isn’t there until one day I awaken, and it’s not. If there is a problem between me and my husband I ignore it, and eventually it goes away. If I have health problems, I put off accepting them for as long as I can. If someone tells me I have to deal with something, I veto their decision and quietly refuse. Many would think Denial is a dreadful state, but it’s worked for me for 53 years, and it’s working for me right now. My head says, “He’s so much better off. No pain. No more meds. No more trips to the ER.” My heart just can’t catch up. My heart says, “I don’t care. I want my daddy.” I know it’s a normal reaction. After all, my family has been here before. Twenty-six years and one month ago to be exact. With no warning and no time to prepare, my baby brother was taken from us forever changing the dynamic of our family. He left a void so huge that I thought nothing and no one would ever be able to fill it. I was right, but I was also wrong. There is still a hole deep in my soul that yearns for Chuck everyday, but God poured Himself into much of it and eased the heartache and pain. I know He’ll do it again. Eight months after Chuck’s death, God provided a miracle through the birth of his baby girl. Brooke was a joy. She brought life back into our family. Laughter returned to the walls of my parent’s home. For you who have never lost someone you love, you may not understand my dilemma, but you will. Unfortunately, there will come a time of loss. You’ll follow me through this valley of dreams. You’ll open your eyes every day and pray, “Lord, please tell me it isn’t true.” And you’ll wait. You’ll move forward, slowly, but you’ll move, because you can’t stay in one place forever. That’s not how life works, or death for that matter. My dad has moved forward. He’s walking streets of gold. His back is free of pain for the first time in over ten years. He walks upright without a walker. His legs are strong. I wonder if he’s mowing the grass. I know he’s doing something, because Dad was never one to sit and take it easy. Maybe God gave him a can of paint and said, “Here, Charles. Paint until your heart is content.” Perhaps he works in the morning and plays baseball with my brother and his best friends in the afternoon. Has he knocked one out of the park yet as he so often did when he was younger? I was always so proud when that softball cleared the fence. I wonder what kind of reunion he had with his parents. His father has been gone for 52 years. Did he meet him at the gate? Were his sister and niece there too? And what of his brothers. Did all three await his arrival? Do they get to share a house as one huge family? Does he yearn for me as I do for him? Does he long for Mom, Libby, and his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, too? Some people say that he doesn’t because of the song No Tears in Heaven, but I learned last year in a Bible study that those lyrics may be flawed because Revelation 21:4 says, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” In that final day when God returns and makes His dwelling among men, He Himself will wipe the tears from our eyes. Like Jesus who longs to call his children home, I believe my daddy shares that desire. No, I don’t have to dwell in the place of despair because I have hope. There is a future. There is life after death. There is truth. Thank you Dad for my one last! I’ll love you and miss you forever. Your Loving Daughter, Deb |
Last modified: April 10, 2008
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