Father’s Day hurts

Today has been a hard day for me.

My dad was murdered when I was 13. He was working at a store and it was robbed and he was murdered. Needless to say, it was the most traumatic thing in my life. I still hurt from it. I am performing a monologue this week about a girl who’s dad was killed when she was 15 and she is confronting his murderer. So I think that is stirring things up more, but Father’s Day is always hard for me. I try to avoid it.

There is still a little girl in me who desperately wants her daddy. I know she’s there. I sometimes think she will always be there, she will never grow up. Her growth was stunted. She wants her daddy to hug her, to help her, to walk her down the aisle at her wedding, to be the grandpa to her kids.

But that will never happen.

I so wish that Tim could have met him. I KNOW they would have gotten along SO well! Tim and dad loved cars! They probably would talk ad nauseam about them every time they got together. Dad loved to laugh and was so funny. Tim would have loved that. I really think they could have been close.

I wish Caleb could know his grandpa. I know my dad would have been an AMAZING grandpa! He would have spoiled him like no other. He would have taught Caleb all about cars and had him under the hood as soon as he could stand. I can imagine Caleb curling up on his lap and dad reading books to him.

But that will never happen.

Because someone else made the decision to be selfish. Because they made their decisions, I am forever paying for it. My husband, my child(ren), my family is forever paying for it.

I want to write something about how I am sorry that my dad’s murderers may not have had good dads and that’s why they went down the path they did. I want to write about how I hope they have found hope, restoration and healing and salvation through God while they are in prison. I want to write about how I hope they didn’t have kids yet so that their kids don’t have to grow up without a dad the way I have.

And I guess part of me feels that way. The part that God has healed. The part that has grown up.

But that little girl who just hurts doesn’t feel that way. She just cries. And wonders when her daddy is coming home to give her a hug. She keeps looking for him and crying and hurting.

I know that one day that little girl will be healed and whole. I know one day her pain will stop and she will be able to run into the arms of her Father who has always been there for here and who has carried her and His arms will scoop her up and never let go.

But for now, she hurts. She cries. She longs for that hug.
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3 thoughts on “Father’s Day hurts

  1. lots of hugs from me too. thanks for sharing about that. i'm sorry for all that you've lost and i am crying with you. i love you tons!

  2. Pingback: One reason why I stayed « this and that and then some

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