What went wrong?

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."

Broken

When someone you love chooses to die, you are left broken into a million pieces. You want to pick up all the pieces and glue them back together again as quickly as possible. You yearn for normal. To feel normal, to see the joy in things again. To not have your mind consumed with the thought that this person is gone, and you didn't help them when they needed it most.

Last night I slept a little better although I was awakened after a strange dream that left my heart pounding. In it, I was walking through a cemetery with my family. I have no idea why we were there. All of the sudden laying on the ground was a baby- a dead baby. Everyone else wanted to walk past and leave it it be, it was none of our business, after all, but I couldn't. I stopped to touch it and felt a faint heartbeat- I started screaming that the baby was alive and tried to get others to help me.... I woke up startled.

Strange dreams like this have been haunting me at night since my dad died. But this one seemed too real, to close to home. Why couldn't I have seen through my dad's anger, to see that he was barley clinging to life? If only the clock would turn back and I could know the despair he felt, and I could have traveled there for a visit, or convinced him to come and live with us? Maybe then he could have seen that life was worth hanging around for.

My dad chose to leave, and he accomplished what he wanted to accomplish in those final minutes of insanity- shattering my life as a mirror shatters when dropped from a 2nd story window to the pavement below.

Am I beyond repair? Most certainly not. It feels that way today, but God promises me in Genesis 50:20 "You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so that I could save the lives of many people." (NLT)

Proverbs 3:25 spoke to my heart today as I listened online to a Beth Moore study, "Have no fear of sudden disaster, or of the ruin that overtakes the wicked, for the Lord will be by your side,and will keep your foot from being snared."