Looking through posts from just a year ago and finding candid, typically beautiful moments with my dad scattered throughout has me grieving.
Facing his liver failure head on is hard. Watching his body degress and his brilliant mind being taken from him is torturous. We knew it would be. We’re prepared, you could say. We’re tough, you know. We’re faithful, you better believe. But why?
I’ve written and shared how thankful we are for his life. For his organ donations allowing him 11 extra, priceless years. We are so grateful we got to celebrate his 60th birthday with him recently. I have shared about the many blessings we’ve received and the unity and love our family has gained from this trial. And that is all still true. But it does not make it easy.
A thought shared by many with the best of intentions about the heartbreak of a life ending prematurely is the notion that “They’re called to a higher purpose on the other side.” “Heavenly Father is sure filling callings with the very best right now.” I’m thankful this brings comfort to some. We all deal with trials and grief and pain differently.
To me, I see pain and sickness and death as a consequence of mortality. It’s what we signed up for. One thing you can count on in life is that it will be unfair and at times cruel. I do believe in a beautiful afterlife. I have a strong testimony of eternal families. I believe that my ancestors, my friends that have passed on, and my dad will all be doing important work in heaven. I believe they are still very involved in blessing our lives. I have some very personal experiences and faith in the resolution that will come after our time on this earth. And maybe when my heart softens past this stage I can open up about them.
But not right now.
I can’t think of a higher calling than being with your family on this earth. I see young parents taken early and wouldn’t dare devalue their work here by assuming there’s something better they need to get on to. Or when children die and babies are not allowed to join their family that desperately wants them. It’s heartbreaking and feels wrong. And I think my dad getting to stay with us longer and in good health to share his wisdom and knowledge, his genuine love, to teach and serve and read stories to his grandchildren yet to come would be a pretty important calling! The list of injustices goes on.
And somehow, in light of all that, the explanation I do resonate with is that we don’t get to choose. No one is exempt from the trials of this life. Ultimately and logically we all face the same destiny. It sucks and somehow the unfairness is comforting.
And maybe someday, years or eons from now, I’ll look back and realize the timing and the rightness in these things we don’t understand.
But for now, I’m mad.