I have spent the last few days going though all dad's old e-mails to me. Searching for the moment that sent him over the edge. You see, my dad's note left to me wasn't one of "I love you daughter", or "Take care of those grandkids who I love so much", but one of anger, rage and hate.
Growing up, I knew my dad loved me. I was his only child, and he was proud of me. Every time we rode on his Harley to meet his friends at the shop, go out to eat.... anywhere we went, people knew me already because my dad never stop talking about me.
He burned with anger when my mother got re-married and I had another dad in my home. I was his- and that's all their was to it.
When I had children, my dad was just as proud of his grandkids. As I wrapped up issues in his town, all I heard was how often he spoke of us, how much he loved us. I had to stop myself on several occasions from screaming back, "Really he loved me?! This isn't love! He did this to hurt me!!"
Our relationship had become strained over the last 6 months. All this time I thought it was me, I had done something wrong. I'm starting to see that simply isn't the case. My dad had become so hard to talk to. You couldn't say anything without him getting angry and going on a rant.
Looking back through my email I could see his disposition had fallen slowly over the last couple of years. I found my last email to him, which told him how much I loved him and desired to help him, yet had to walk on eggshells around him. I begged and pleaded with him to see life through different eyes. To enjoy what God had given him, instead of always looking at his broken dreams. His response was hard, calloused and out of character for him. I know know that was his deep sorrow speaking. He was standing in a pit looking up at me, and although I tried many times to throw him a lifeline, he just couldn't hang on- his hands were too slippery, perhaps caused by his self-induced sweat caused by his own fears that were trapped in his mind. If only he had wiped his hands off on his sides and grabbed hold of that rope!
I closed my inbox feeling a little better- in this moment- right now- I understand that nothing I could have said or done would have changed his mind. He chose to abandon me- but it wasn't because of anything I had done. He was trapped. He couldn't see the light just beyond the top of the pit. He couldn't see the love that swelled up in me as I looked over the edge at him.
A wonderful sister in Christ wrote me encouragement today that although my dad had self-inflicted injuries born of his anger and sorrow- directed at me, Jesus has scarred hands, proof of His dying love for me. That thought will get me through today.
Jer.31:3-4 "I have loved you with an everlasting love, I have drawn you with lovingkindness. I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt."
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