A Lighthouse
Eight years ago, my dad succumbed to liver cancer. At first, I thought I’d never experience full, true joy without him in my life. Angered and feeling abandoned, I pleaded with him, why did you leave me so early?
After an ethereal dream, the depth of the darkness and pain began pointing to how much light and joy could be experienced if I braved the journey between. If I felt this deep on one end, then I had a whole lotta joy waiting on the opposite end. So, I embarked on a quest for healing and a search for meaning, and in some ways, our relationship has expanded and strengthened since his physical death. In a tribute to him on the anniversary, I feel like sharing one of those stories.
A memory from one of his stays at the Veteran Affairs hospital comes to mind. I stared out the window into the full parking lot as my dad, a bit woozy from the morphine, said, “You could be a nurse, like Miss Jay over here.”
“I’ve already graduated, dad,” I said, “Besides, you know I want to be a writer.”
He went on to ask the nurse, “Is that Miss Jay or Misses Jay?”
In all honesty, I had begun prepping myself for his death since the day I discovered he’d had cancer and perceived his nudge as a rejection for who I am.
Until two years ago, six years after his death, while sitting in a yoga teacher graduation circle on the weekend of Father's Day, I recalled the same memory from a different vantage point. Instead of perceiving his words as a rejection, I understood my dad had seen me for who I am – a healer. He’d offered suggestions from his wheelhouse then, not the spiritual, written ones of my chosen methods.
A loving warmth radiated from my body when I realized it had actually been my self-rejection mirroring back as an unwillingness to embrace acceptance from others. My dad had loved and accepted me for who I am. He’d even seen a truth in me that I hadn’t discovered then. Yet, through my grief and the physical loss of him, I found my modalities and my story. He’d helped me become who I was meant to be.
Words I’d once hated to admit, I now say with a grin: daddy was right. The surest way to get somewhere isn’t the quickest. What I’d always sought was within, I’d just taken the scenic route to awaken to my true essence. Love had lived in the nest of me all along.
So, without the pain, I wouldn’t appreciate, nor maybe even have, the joy or insight to share. Journeying the space between gifted the light of this story to shine others to their harbor.
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Side note, I recently framed this photo and can’t help but smile at our matching watches and the fact that I’m wearing a shirt that says, “Don’t worry, be happy.”
All my love,
Kristin