A Life That Still Leads Me: The Miracle of My Daddy and Me
A Life That Still Leads Me
A Life That Still Leads Me: The Miracle of My Daddy and Me
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Even though I am a grandmother, today I feel like a little girl who has lost her daddy: a little girl who is lost and searching for him frantically, wanting her daddy to come find her, knowing he is no longer here to do so.
I am wrecked.
My daddy worked so hard his entire life to provide for his siblings, as the oldest of many, while also lavishing us with the amazing lifestyle we were blessed to live. He suffered great loss and carried wounds quietly, wounds that had been passed down through generations. Our Ukrainian heritage carried the painful legacy of alcoholism, anger, and dysfunction. All families have dysfunction, but in ours, for much of our lives, the rule was simply: be seen and not heard.
But God.
About 15 years ago, God allowed me to help daddy understand the generational dysfunction and alcoholism that had shaped so much of our family. He listened. He cared. He humbled himself. And he truly repented and asked for forgiveness.
All his hospitalizations were ordained to be periods of love to share “I care. I’m not going anywhere.” And I didn’t. Where daddy was, no matter the cost or at whose objection, I was planted right by his side where I belonged. I wanted to be by my daddy.
God took that time, beginning when I was already in my 50s, to teach a father and daughter how to simply be together, how to sit in silence without fear, how to say hard things without flinching, and how to love each other exactly as we were. I stayed close, because that's where I belonged, right by my daddy's side. And in that closeness, God showed us both what could be left behind for the ones who come after us, something different than what we had inherited.
This woman melted back into a little girl as daddy and I discovered our new bond. Even after his six strokes and his Alzheimer's and dementia diagnoses, we found ways to enjoy one another and share life together. A Rueben sandwich eaten together was pure delicacy.
It was so hard watching him lose a piece of himself every day. But somehow, I loved him more and more.
And then God began the most beautiful work of redemption I have ever encountered.
God took a lifetime of pain, abandonment, anger, and silence and began turning it into chapters of our healing journey.
I believe healing is possible because I have lived it.
I have watched God take addiction, anger, and decades of silence and transform these cycles of dysfunction into something I never thought possible: reconciliation, peace, honest conversation and healthy love.
And then there was something I will treasure for the rest of my life: we learned to pray together.
He was Catholic; I was Protestant. Yet somehow, our differences melted away in those moments, and we simply came before Father God together. Those prayers are among the most cherished memories I have tucked into the deepest folds of my heart and sealed there forever.
Daddy became the best daddy in the world to his grown daughter, and I will forever praise God for that gift of love and time.
I don't look back at our story and see only what was broken; I see the miracle. I see the beautiful journey. God took the traumatic injury and replaced it with healing. He took what could have remained a generational wound and turned it into a testimony of redemption.
Daddy was and will forever be my hero, right next to Jesus.
And I wish with everything in me that he could come back.
I have no idea how long it will take before I can exist and talk about him without crying my eyes out. So my voice will be quiet for a while, maybe a couple of weeks, as I embrace every ache and every absence of the man I was so proud of and so honored to call “my daddy.”
Every conversation with my daddy ended with, “You’re a good, good Father, daddy, and I love you.”
These last images are especially precious to me because they were from last week, the last time Daddy and I talked on FaceTime. For the last two years, because of my long cancer journey and the 500-mile distance between us, this was how we stayed connected.
Look at the way he is smiling at me after he realized who was on the screen.
That smile tells the story of my love for him.
And look at me. I am filled with absolute joy just seeing my daddy. In those moments, I was a little girl again, still cleaving to my daddy's tender love.
Toward the end of his life, daddy never got out of bed or moved freely, and sometimes he couldn't talk. But he learned to blow me kisses, and he always called me his angel. Even when I was bald from chemo…
Those kisses he blew to me became one of the sweetest ways he could still tell me, “I love you.”
I would give anything to have one more conversation.
One more smile.
One more kiss blown through a screen.
One more “I love you.”
And yes, daddy, we still have one last dance awaiting us, but this time, you won't be in a wheelchair. Now, we'll be able to two-step on those pearly streets of gold in glory.
I know this:
What is handed down to us does not have to be what we hand down.
Generational pain can end. Addiction can lose its grip. Brokenness can be healed. Anger can be cured through honest and loving communication. Silence can become conversation. And God can restore a relationship, even after decades.
Daddy's life is proof.
Our relationship is proof.
And I am proof that God can take what was once painful and make it beautiful.
I got my daddy for all 63 years of my life. And by the grace of God, I got to truly know him.
I love you, daddy. You are my hero. I know I cannot bring you back into my arms, no matter how desperately I want to. I have to trust you to God now, even while my heart is breaking, and hold on to the promise that love like ours is never lost. It is only changed until I see you again.
Until then, I will carry your love, our story, your grandchildren with your name in theirs, and God's redemption into every generation that comes after me.
What a gift.
What a mercy.
What a miracle.
Daddy, thank you for being you. I miss and love you. Until we can dance and sing again.
Until next time…
Daddy not knowing who was coming on the screen. Once he realized it was me, he smiled. And then daddy blowing me the last kiss I’ll receive this side of heaven from him. Rest in peace, daddy. I love you!