Laying a Parent to Rest (My Story, Part One)
Let’s Chat Afterglow #6
We all have spiritual markers in our lives. A spiritual marker is an event or experience that has a profound effect on your rhythm of life, how you live your life from that point forward; your actual being. These events can be the birth of a child, divorce, death of a spouse, a new job, a physical malady, dire diagnosis, etc. All of these occurrences affect our emotions, our minds, our physical bodies, and our spirit man. The best outcome is to heal and grow through these processes. My outcomes have always been determined by how much I involve the Lord in my journey. I identified three spiritual markers in 2022 alone that have turned my world upside down, but there is one in particular that I would like to share with you.
My spiritual markers for the past year included a 14-month-old baby suddenly becoming a part of the household, a diagnosis being made, and the death of my father. While the first two markers are ongoing, the last one is not. It has been laid to rest if you will. My Dad died on Palm Sunday, April 10 th , 2022, at the age of 83. I was with my Dad as he rapidly went downhill, holding his hand, listening to his weakened voice as he spoke, and reassuring him that everything was going to be alright. The only request that he had was that I get his beloved guitar. He was adamant about that. To be honest, I didn’t even want it. It represented a myriad of memories, emotions, and reminders of the laborious pilgrimage the two of us had been on. This labor of love had come to an end, except for one thing, the music.
My Dad and I were still playing music and leading praise and worship three weeks before his death. He was playing that guitar and singing out strong. We knew it was just a matter of time, so it came as no surprise when he took his last breath. My goal and what I saw as my responsibility was to help him keep singing and playing for as long as possible because it was the greatest joy in his life. Recently I realized that I had been doing that very thing, giving him opportunities and platforms so he could play and sing his songs, for 25 years. A lot of the time I felt like I was just along for the ride, and it wasn’t always a smooth ride. It was mostly about him; however, I reaped the benefits of being able to praise and worship the Lord my God in intimate and powerful ways. Once the music started, it was glorious, and I was caught up in my love for God and desire to lead his people into a place of rest, healing, and salvation. The Holy Spirit always showed up and what is better than that?
I loved playing guitar, drumming, and singing unto the Lord. It was a big part of my life, but there is quite a back story that I am still processing due to this particular spiritual marker. The back story is the most difficult and complex part of the grief process for me. The loss of my Dad wasn’t particularly hard for me because it was his time, and I knew he would be in the arms of the Savior as soon as he took his last breath. It became about how I was to proceed with the music. It was always about the music with him. Was the day of his death the day that the music died? Was I responsible for keeping it alive and well as I had done for a quarter century of my life? Would it be dishonoring to be done with it or more honorable to never play again without him? All of these questions became a part of my journey. Nine months later, I am ready to answer these questions and talk about the sometimes thorny subject of the father/child relationship from a grown daughter’s perspective.
