No one ever told me the feelings of anger and resentment that would wash over me on any given day in the months and years even, after the death of my dad. At the time of originally writing this, it had been a year since we lost him. We are going on year 4 and this still feels just as raw now as it did at the time of writing. I hope not to gain empathy but to encourage boldness in your forgiveness and maybe even to remind you that in the darkest crevices of life, there is room for light to find its way to you.

Like many others, I never had the space or tools to work through the ghosts of my childhood in a healthy way and even my closest friends had no idea about the other half of my life. I bounced between two vastly different homes and atmospheres, walking through my entire childhood with no sense of belonging. On one hand, everything seemed picture perfect and on the other.. well the other was well hidden.

There was an unspoken rule that what happened behind the doors of my dad’s home, stayed hidden deep in the closets. While my testimony is for another day because it isn’t about just me, I have reached a point in life where I have more courage to share my own experience with grief and the tools that helped me.

We lost him to complications due to congestive heart failure. He had the heart of an 80-year-old man because of drug abuse. I remember him as a tough. A stone wall. He would give the shirt off of his back to a stranger, while his children were silently begging for his approval and attention.

I was at my dad’s house every other weekend and half of the summer so he always made them count.. until he didn’t. At some point, he began to lock himself in his room and anything going on beyond the door didn’t matter so much anymore. Once I became a mother, our relationship grew so very complicated and I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t love me the way I loved my own children. Couldn’t fathom why he didn’t want to pour into the lives of his precious grandchildren. I knew he was capable of so much more than what he let himself become, I knew he was better than the path that he chose over me, again and again. So when he failed to live up to my high expectations, it only stirred hurt and resentment within my own heart.

We clashed, yelled, fought, and while he never physically left, his love began to feel like a dangling carrot – just out of reach. I loved him fiercely despite it while still pining for his attention – a recipe for disaster for any teenage girl. I thought this man walked on water for most of my life and it wasn’t until after he was gone that I saw him for what he truly was. Just a man broken down and beaten by his own choices. Battling some silent war within himself, just like everyone else.

Fast forward to his funeral and the days following. I felt so numb that I don’t remember most of the people who came, only that my grieving experience was not a peaceful one. My family’s lack of propriety overshadowed the planning, selfishness took away special moments from people most important to me, and greed stomped on the toes of those bearing the financial burden. The funeral was the easy part because I was just there in a sea of faces. In the days after I had only my thoughts to accompany me, which is a dangerous place for a grieving heart.

All of our happy times were thrown into the trash can and all that remained was hatred, anger, resentment, and downright disappointment. I was angry at him for leaving me before we could go to the lunch he promised me that next week because I thought he would finally apologize. I was disappointed in him for not truly knowing his grandchildren, hated him for all of the unspoken “I’m sorry” and “I love yous”, and resented his very memory for abandoning me in the worst way. I just wanted a normal dad like my friends had. A dad who stopped by their house just because he wanted to.

All these big feelings that I never had a chance to process as a child paired with present grief cultivated into a depressed, anxious, and cynical 28-year-old mom of 2 with severe daddy issues. I started to resent everyone and everything around me. Because I mastered masking at a young age to protect my dad, no one knew that I was in a dark place.

-I resented my mom for living her life while I was having a hard time in my own that no one noticed.

-I resented my other siblings for getting the best parts of my dad while I was at my mom’s house as a child.

-I resented my husband because he had normal parents and he could never even come close to being able to relate with me or my problems.

Now, let me tell you about my God.

8 months later, we joined a new church where my healing process began during a prayer night. Every stone I let the enemy stack up crumbled like a Jenga tower. I felt God’s presence wrap around me like a blanket and knew in that moment I was made for more. I knew God would mold this broken thing into a carrier of His glory. Because of that prayer night, I own more self-help books on healing than I would like to admit, and they didn’t truly help. I didn’t feel lighter, happier, or free. Desperate, I dove into Bible study, and THIS is where I found my freedom. This is where I found a soothing balm for my broken spirit that self-help books can’t offer. This has become a priority in my everyday life, and my life is significantly better.

Every day before I even open my Bible, I start with this prayer: “Dear God, please open my heart and my mind to the word that I study tonight. Please show me the true meaning behind the text and help my heart understand your Word in a way that adds value to my character. With your hands, mold it into one that honors you and reflects your image.” I can’t tell you how many times I have prayed for healing and insight through God’s Word, and each time I found new wisdom that my heart needed. 

Having hurtful memories that feel heavy on you doesn’t mean they should hold more value than good ones. You’re the one who gets to decide which memories you keep and which ones you let go of, so choose wisely, friend. Choose wisely because the way others treat you does NOT change who God calls you to be, and it doesn’t mean that it has to be a permanent roadblock in your path. God can take your pain and use it for good, but you have to give Him the opportunity to. 1 Peter 5:7 tells us to cast our anxieties on Him because He cares. He cares for you more than any earthly father ever could; you just have to CHOOSE to let Him. Choose to let Him bear the weight you were never meant to carry alone.

Feelings are big and can take up a lot of space if you let them. I’m here to tell you that yours are valid, but they shouldn’t take the driver’s seat in your life because we aren’t always going to be happy. We aren’t called to happiness, but we are called to holiness. Sometimes it’s painful, but I encourage you to choose forgiveness, kindness, and grace anyway. Your own heart is depending on it.

Instead of focusing on the things that once gave me pangs of anger, sorrow, or envy I chose to see them in a different light.

-I’m glad my mom has a life to live. I hope she lives it to the fullest. 

-I’m happy that some of my siblings got to experience and remember my dad’s happiness and joy. I hope it left a positive imprint on their hearts.

-My husband has amazing parents who molded him into the outstanding father he is and without them, I wouldn’t have my very best friend or the role models for the parent I wish to be for their grandchildren.

Trust me, from experience, you don’t NEED the “I love you” or the “I’m sorry” that you feel entitled to. They feel good, yes. But you don’t need them because they will not fix what is broken within you. That is for God.

• Manage your expectations for others.
• Choose to keep positive memories instead of dwelling on negative ones.
• Read God’s Word. It offers sanctuary for broken hearts. Prioritize time for Him each day.
• Share your deep dark trench with others because someone close to you may already know the way out.
• Stop focusing on what you feel others owe you and start focusing on what you owe yourself: a relationship with God.
• Understand that you were never meant to bear this weight alone.