“Goodnight, Daddy!” I yelled as he tucked me in for the last time. When I shut my eyes that night, I never expected to wake up with one less parent.
My dad was expected to threaten the first boy who broke my heart, be the loudest person cheering at my college graduation, and be the one weeping uncontrollably when he gives me away, but I’ve never, nor will I, be able to experience any of these moments with him.
The last ‘big’ milestone I got to experience with my dad was my first day of preschool. He dropped me off into a classroom that was bright, not only with light but with children’s laughter, making it hard to not want to join in. One wall of the room was lined with windows and through the windows I remember seeing my dad slowly walking, trying to leave, but not having the ability to. He stood at the very last window just watching with tears falling.
I’ve gone through life wondering how different it would be if my dad hadn’t passed away: my family probably wouldn’t have moved when I was 10, I would have gone to a high school seven times bigger than the one I attended, and, in all probability, I wouldn’t be sitting in a room, in Bulgaria, on the World Race.
After my dad’s death, I struggled. I didn’t just struggle for a short time; I struggled well into adulthood. I had a hard time settling into a life without my dad and was always wishing. I was always searching for something to fill the void, something to numb the pain… anything to forget what happened. I turned to drugs, alcohol, boys, anger, etc., which pushed any relationship with Christ further and further away. In the end, these things brought me full circle into searching for more than the unsuccessful vices I used.
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Fast forward to my last church service at home before leaving for the World Race. Preparing for the Race is an emotional rollercoaster within itself, but saying goodbye to a community that has been a backbone for so many years is the worst. After many prayers, hugs, and tears I made my way over to my friend Kate* who was physically shaking, but also looked as if she was contemplating something.
As I sat down next to her, I was overcome with a feeling of anxiousness and nervousness. I wasn’t sure why, but it terrified me. At first, her thoughts weren’t coming in clear so I was having a hard time deciphering what she was trying to say. When she finally took a few breaths the conversation went something like this:
Kate: “Okay, so this never happens to me; I’ve never experienced anything like this.”
Me: “Okayyy.” That’s me completely terrified as to what is going to come out of her mouth.
Kate: “This is going to sound really weird, but did you play with a horse when you were a kid?
Still perplexed as to where she was going with this, I answered with a simple, “I did”. I had a white horse with a white mane and white hair that I played with all the time. It was what I learned to braid on and what I taught my sister to braid on. I took it everywhere.
After a few seconds she continued with a shaky voice.
Kate: “Okay. While Pastor Chuck was praying I saw your dad standing next to a white horse and he said, I’m proud of you and I love you.”
A waterfall immediately sprung from my eyes, and hers.
This wasn’t happening. I had been searching my entire life for something to confirm that my dad was still with me, that he knew what was going on in my life and he does! I had been pushing away any and every opportunity God wanted to give me to be in the presence of my dad by running away from Him.
I know one day I will be with my dad again. One day we will be able to talk about my life and all the experiences he was a part of. He will tell me how proud he is of me and I will be reminded of such a great life I had been given.
As of now, I miss you. I hurt knowing I can’t talk to you about this crazy adventure I’m on, but I love you through it all.
*Names have been changed
