My dad passed away several years ago, but the last few months of the year are still harder. His birthday is in September, and that leads right into the holidays. No matter how long it's been, I'm reminded that grief is a really strange thing. It comes in waves. Some days I'm fine, and other days I feel his absence a little more.
My family makes jokes. That's how we cope. Some of those jokes probably wouldn't make sense to other people, and some people definitely wouldn't think they were funny. But joking doesn't mean there's any love lost. We still love him. We still miss him. Sometimes we laugh while we do.
When my dad died, a friend who had lost her father a couple of years earlier said, "Welcome to the club. The club nobody wants to be a part of." I've never forgotten that.
Losing my grandparents was extremely difficult. Those losses happened so close together. But losing my dad, with the surprise of it all, was gut-wrenching, honestly. Sometimes I think about whether knowing ahead of time would have made a difference. Maybe we could have prepared in some ways, but I don't think it would have made losing him any easier.
I was an only child for thirteen years before my sister came along. In a way, I feel like we both got the best of both worlds because Dad had two baby girls. We each got to experience being Daddy's girl, just at different times. I think that's really neat.
Our childhoods were different, though. My parents were married until I was fifteen, so I remember Christmases when we were all together. For most of those years, I was the only child and got all the attention. My sister's memories look different. I watched her go back and forth between parents. She was very much loved in each home, but it was still different. Being older, I could drop in, so that looked different for me, too.
I think about families who aren't together at Christmas for whatever reason. Those families are in my prayers. And I'm especially sensitive to people who have lost a parent this year and are approaching those first holidays without them.
Those firsts are extremely difficult. But I can't say the seconds and thirds are necessarily easier. Years later, there are still moments that hurt.
A friend of mine lost her dad when we were young. Even then, it was evident how much she loved him. Over the years, when she shared about him, my heart hurt for her. But I didn't understand the actual loss of having your dad here one day and then having to live without him.
I think about her often. I understand more now than I did then, but I still didn't lose my father at the age she did. Our experiences are different, and I don't want to assume that because I've lost my dad, I know exactly what losing hers has felt like.
Relationships are different. Personalities are different. We don't all feel things or show those feelings in the same way. Some people don't show much emotion. Some people feel it with extreme emotion. That would be me.
The other night was family meal night. I cook for my kids, and they come home to our house once a week. This particular week, we watched Dancing with the Stars together. It was Disney night, and as it opened, there it was: The Lion King, my dad's favorite Disney movie. I remember watching it over and over with him.
We got through it. I didn't say anything, and nobody else said anything. I don't know whether they were thinking about it, too, or whether anybody was watching to see if Mom was crying yet. That would be a fair question around our house.
I made it a little further into the night before something else got me. One of my daughters said, "Sorry, Mom."
I told her, "Look, I made it through The Lion King."
It was bound to happen. I wasn't going to last the whole night.
My family makes jokes about my tears, and I know the love behind it. They know me. My grief shows up where people can see it. Other people's grief doesn't, and I think that's something we need to remember as we approach Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Someone's hurt might show up as frustration or irritation. They might be a little snippy, and we may have no idea what happened before we crossed paths with them. It might be grief over a death, but it could also be a strained relationship or something else they haven't shared.
My encouragement is that we give each other some grace. Let's try to love people where they are, even when we don't understand. Someone having a bad moment doesn't necessarily tell us who they are or even what their whole day has been like.
There's so much excitement, joy, and love around the holidays. There's also a lot of pain for a lot of people, and we don't always get to see that part.
If you've lost a parent, if you're missing your dad, my heart is with you as we navigate this season. I'm so sorry for your loss and for the waves of grief that can catch you when you thought you were doing okay. Whether this is your first year or it's been many years, let yourself grieve without feeling like it has to look the way someone else's does.
After the loss of a dear friend, I was crying with the children in my Sunday school class. I told them that tears aren't always bad. Yes, sometimes they're sad. But sometimes there's so much joy and so much love that it comes out your eyes.
I'm going to stick with that. When I cry over The Lion King, there's sadness, but there's also love and the memory of watching it with my dad. I'm thankful I have that.
And even while I miss those I love who have gone on to heaven, I can thank God for the hope we have because of what Jesus did for each of us on the cross. That hope matters to me, especially during the months when I miss my dad a little more.