Tag: father

Grieving through the years

~ K ~ 1 Comment

Nine years ago today, my father died. I didn’t find out for certain until December 14. But the pain of his passing strikes me on and off for about a week and a half during the month of December.

I get frustrated with myself because I need to stop grieving afresh each year as the Christmas season approaches. But of course, I didn’t grieve for the first three to four years after his death so maybe I’m just encountering a delayed reaction. Maybe it’s as if he died in 2004 and I’m just going through something that would have been natural if it occurred six years ago.

I’m at work today so I’m not bawling my eyes out but my heart is heavy with sorrow. I need to take frequent breaks to gather myself together because I so much miss this man who has helped shape who I am.

I was honest with God today. I told Him “I fucking hate the fact that You took my father away from me.” The arrogance of the statement struck me as soon as it left my mouth. I don’t own my father. I never have; my father has never belonged to anyone except God. I see it as God taking my father away but really it’s God just deciding to bring my father home.

My father was alive for only 19 years of my life. But I started to lose my father to mental illness when I became a teenager, around 13 or 14 years old. Perhaps I’m not as much angry that he’s physically gone as the fact that he mentally began leaving me five to six years before his actual passing. My most vivid memories of my father are some of the saddest (but also funniest, in a mental illness sort of way) ones.

The memories of his sane years are leaving me because I was so young:

  • Memories of going to Eisenhower Park in Nassau County and tossing around a football that I was too afraid to catch. (Totally girly; totally unathletic.)
  • Memories of putting a picnic blanket out on carpet of my parents’ master bedroom in our apartment every Sunday night to eat dinner and watch CBS’s “60 Minutes” because that’s where the TV was. (The only time we had dinner together as a family and watched TV together.)
  • Memories of my father playing music on Saturdays as he and my mother cleaned the apartment from top to bottom
  • Memories of my father playing Nat King Cole and Dean Martin for my mother during the Christmas holiday season

So many memories that I’m struggling to remember because they are so easily leaving me as I grow older.

So I try so hard to keep my father alive through the legacy he left me:

  • A love for sports (namely baseball and football)
  • Keeping up on current events (news and politics)
  • The continuation of fiction writing (he believed I had a gift since I was six years old)
  • A love for music of all kinds (my iPod plays Lady Gaga, The Beatles, Tina Turner, Miranda Lambert, and Yo-Yo Ma)
  • Paying bills on time (he was meticulous about this)
  • Social (my father could talk your ear off. I can too after I warm up to you)

Some of the things I didn’t inherit:

  • Neatness – Every Saturday morning into afternoon, he’d clean the apartment thoroughly: disinfecting, vacuuming, dusting, and organizing. I think he was OCD (not kidding). But I also know that he did it for me since I had severe eczema and a cleaner environment helped my skin.
  • Fashion sense – He was always well dressed. I was always sort of an embarrassment to him if I tried to dress myself.
  • Puritan-like work ethic – He’d almost NEVER miss work before he became mentally ill. (Not so with me!)
  • Handyman usefulness – He obtained his degree in civil engineering, worked in maintenance, and could fix nearly anything mechanical or electrical. Great with math. (Again, not so with me!)
  • Womanizing – As a kid, I didn’t understand why he dressed so nicely and went out on Saturday nights and left my mom at home with me but yeah, I’m pretty thankful to have not inherited this part of him.

He may not have been the best husband to my mom but he was an amazing father—the best he knew how to be. Perhaps I developed some perfectionism issues as a result of his overbearingness but I know he meant well. He simply was a Haitian immigrant who wanted his American-born daughter to succeed in life and excelling in academics was the answer to that.

So perhaps I’m not lamenting my father’s physical passing so much as I am finally grieving over the father that I lost so long ago. It’s difficult to grieve over someone while they’re still alive. If I could liken the mental loss of my father to anything, it would be like losing a loved one to Alzheimer’s. Slow and painful until death is all that’s left.

I know he’s in a better place but there’s a selfish part of me that still wished he were here. And I don’t know how to fight the illogic of that.

 

 

December Days

~ K ~ 1 Comment

Each December since 2001, I have about a weeklong span that is marked by days of remembrance for me:

As a matter of fact, I recount this in a post from June.

I haven’t really cried or shed tears so far but it’s simply a reminder of how much I miss the man who was so integral in shaping me into the person I am today. I haven’t spoken to my mother about it but I wonder if she thinks about him this time of year too.

Still searching for an identity… part 4

~ K ~ 1 Comment

Faith, religion, God.

I’m currently reading Joel Osteen‘s latest book, “It’s Your Time” and annoying the Twitter world with my #ItsYourTime-related tweets. I subscribe to a brand of Christianity that does not subscribe to Osteen’s brand of Christianity. So why am I reading this book if I don’t agree with him? Several reasons actually:

  1. Curiosity. It’s fun to make fun of what we know of the guy but has the message changed?
  2. Legitimate criticism. I tire of Christians panning books they’ve never read and never intend to read. I want to legitimately pan–or extol (unlikely, though)–Osteen’s book.
  3. Amusement. His optimism amuses me. He’s easy to make fun of and his anecdotes are sometimes hilarious.
  4. Thought-provoking. In a twisted mode of thought, I enjoy finding verses and passages that are distorted or examples that are taken out of context. Makes me feel like a mini-theologian. 🙂

The trouble with Osteen’s book, however, is that there’s a lot of truth in it but there’s enough wrong to make it bad.

I’ve been assuming the majority of my readers are Christians who know about Joel Osteen in some way. Maybe you’re not a Christian or you’re simply not familiar with Mr. Osteen. Well, let me introduce you.

Osteen, in a nutshell, is considered by his supporters as “America’s voice of hope and encouragement” while his critics deem him as a proponent of the prosperity “health and wealth” gospel. Indeed, I can see truth from both sides.

Osteen writes in a very personable way, which makes it feel as though he’s speaking specifically to each reader. If a person is feeling discouraged, no doubt, Osteen has the gift of encouragement. (Even renowned evangelical Mars Hill pastor Mark Driscoll has said such!) Osteen is the ultimate optimist. (Sometimes, he’s so optimistic, it’s sickening.) I’m very much a cynic and a pessimist. I really have no business reading this book.

But there are scriptural truths that he does point out that I, as a pessimist, tend (and prefer) to overlook. For example, God tells us to ask Him for anything. (Matt. 7:7-11) And Osteen can even legitimately use Matthew 21:22 (“And whatever things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive”) if he so desires. I’d argue in favor of Osteen if someone tried to tell me Matthew 21:22 wasn’t a straightforward verse. (Even taken in its context.)

However, where Osteen errs is by leading readers to believe that God will “fulfill all the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:4) If we look at the entire verse, which says, “Delight yourself also in the LORD, and He shall give you the desires of your heart,” it implies first “delighting in God.” When believers delight themselves in God (and the things He’s after), the desires of their heart will align with the desires of God’s heart, not the desires of our sinful lusts. James 4:2-3 again confirms this by saying:

You lust and do not have. … You do not have because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask amiss, that you may spend it on your pleasures.

Christians sometimes have this fallacious belief that God does not answer prayer. Not so! God does answer prayer with a yes or no. Sometimes he doesn’t always answer right away but he does eventually answer our requests. Often, some people take a “no” response to really mean “no answer” because we keep hoping He’ll say “yes.” I can pray my little heart out to be as rich as Bill Gates one day. It’s legitimate to ask for it since I can ask for anything. However, I must also realize it’s legitimate for God to flat-out–or take His time in saying no.

Has Osteen’s book helped me to dream a bit bigger? Well, yes–cautiously.

Osteen has a pretty big God and I think Osteen’s critics sometimes view through the lens of cynicism and try to make God so much smaller than He really is. Truth is, no one can contain God–not you, not me, not Osteen, and definitely not Osteen’s book or sermons. Can God bestow much wealth and restore full health upon you? He sure can; I believe that. Will He? I don’t know but the likelihood of obtaining exceptional wealth is slim. (When I mean “wealth” here, I’m referring to the Americanized definition of “massive accumulation of wealth,” which is the language Osteen uses.)

And that’s where I have a problem with Osteen. Can God do anything? Yes. Will He do anything and everything simply because I ask Him to? No. God is not a magic genie we must rub the right way. This becomes a works-based, legalistic theology. People must obey God simply because He is God. He created all things and therefore gets to make the rules whether we like it or not.

But Osteen tells his readers if they believe they’ll receive whatever they ask for and have enough faith, it will happen. He can support this with Matthew 21:22, remember? How do you refute that?

Osteen’s book so far has challenged me to have more faith in what I pray for. Not some lackadaisical half-hearted faith (“Well, I’ll pray for it, but it likely won’t happen.”) but a real, bold faith that could position me for embarrassment if it doesn’t happen (“I prayed for it and have NO DOUBT it’ll come to pass!”). I’m challenged to pray with confidence, not expecting disappointment but with a realistic mindset that my prayers may not be answered exactly the way I’d like them to be. (I prayed fervently for an Italian husband and got NOWHERE CLOSE to that. But I wouldn’t trade my husband of Anglo-Sax/German heritage for any other man.) God’s ways and wisdom are so much higher than mine. He’s a better judge of good things that I could ever be.

Relationship with God.

Lately, I’ve felt like a Christian in name only (CINO). I hear all these stories of how Christians are told by non-Christians that they “are different” and that “there’s something special” about them they’d like to also have. That has never, ever happened to me. I’ve never been able to “lead” one person to the Lord. Does that make me a terrible Christian?

I know Christians are supposed to be “in the world and not of it.” I always got the impression that the life of a Christian would look different than that of a non-Christian–in a positive way. However, when I evaluate my life, I’m troubled that I can’t tell a marked difference than that of my neighbor who doesn’t go to church. And I don’t mean simply n a public level; I also take my private life into consideration. I don’t get on my knees by my bed to pray every night. In fact, my prayers are sometimes quick requests made in passing throughout the day. I don’t have consistent devotions daily. (There’s that lack of consistency thing again.) I can sometimes go days without talking to God or reading His word. I know my eternal salvation doesn’t depend on me (and thank God it doesn’t because I’m doing a lousy job right now) but James emphasizes “faith without works is dead” (2:17, 26). What good is the salvation I have if I don’t put it into action? My life in Christ needs to be alive and vibrant–and I’m at a total loss as to how to do that. (Remember my little problem with consistency and regularity?)

I want to be different for God. I want to be a God-honoring Christian. I want to put my faith in action. I want to have a close, personal relationship with God. I want to revere God better than I revere any celebrity but I also want to be comfortable with Him like He’s my “homie.” So comfortable I can cry, “Abba, Father, Daddy” (Rom. 8:15, Gal. 4:6) in the most personal and familiar of terms.

Until then, I feel as though I am back at square one like when I was Catholic 12 years ago–CINO. I am hungry and desperate for a savior. I want–perhaps need–to accept Jesus all over again. Maybe daily.

Isn’t consistency key?
—————-
Now playing: Sara Groves – Maybe There’s A Loving God
via FoxyTunes

A eulogy delivered on December 17, 2001

~ K ~ 5 Comments

Me and Daddy

Family, friends, and beloved guests, I want to thank you for attending my father’s memorial service.  Not only was he a devoted brother, husband, and father, but above all, he was a born again child of God.

Even though I’ve lived for only 19 years, I praise God for the memories I shared with my father. I remember my father teaching me how to ride a bike at Eisenhower Park.  Although he did not have a son, I fulfilled that role when he taught me how to play football.  I look back memorably on the last Sunday of each January when my father and I would sit and watch the Super Bowl.  My father has taught me everything I need to kow to watch sports with my future husband.  He taught me that soccer is true football and that no one (but Americans) calls football soccer.  He raised me on cheering for the New York Yankees, but would take me to a Mets game when he had the opportunity.

All the areas of my father’s life seems to be all right but he felt an emptiness that he could not explain.  To fill this longing in his heart, he set out on his quest to find God.  Raised as a staunch Catholic, he realized he could not find what he needed in the traditions of man.  God led him to Bible Baptist Church where he accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior.  As a born again Christian, he began reading the Bible and learned that he could go directly to God for the forgiveness of his sins, not through a priest.  Because of my father’s earnest efforts to bring me to a Bible-believing church, in July of 1998, I also came to know Jesus Christ as my Savior.

As my father immersed himself in the Bible, God changed his heart and gave him a joy that he had never possessed.  A verse from his favorite Psalm reads, “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.”  When trials headed his way, he turned to God for comfort and assistance.  Leaving New York for a Christian college in Florida was not the easiest thing for me to do, but my father was at peace with the decision, knowing that I was doing the will of God.

When people ask how they can help ease the pain of my father’s passing, there’s only one answer: To do what I know my father would want people to do, and that is to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ for the remission of their sins.  Everyone in this room is a sinner.  Romans 3:23 in the Bible says, “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” Romans 6:23 says, “For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”  The ultimate punishment of sin is death, but because my father believed upon Jesus Christ’s finished work on the cross, he is now living eternally in heaven with God.  People should be sad today because my father is no longer physically present.  But I know that my father is in a better place right now, not because he deserved to be, but because God made salvation available to my father as He is making it available to everyone here.  John 3:16 says, “For God so loved the world, that he gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  Do not focus on my father’s death; instead, I ask you to focus on your eternal destination.  It doesn’t matter whether you’re 19 or 90, each of us will die eventually.  Then where will you go?  There’s a heaven above, a hell below and nothing in between.  Had my father not trusted in Jesus Christ, he would have suffered from eternal torment.

Has there ever been a time in your life when you told God that you believed Jesus Christ died, was buried and resurrected for your sins so that you could have access to the gates of heaven? In John 14:6, Jesus states, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life: no man cometh unto the Father but by me.”

Philippians 4:13 emphasizes, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”  If anyone is without Christ, he can do nothing. But I praise God that when He calls me to my home in heaven, I can see my father again.  Can you say with definite assurance that you are on your way to heaven?  If my father’s death has not made you questions your eternal destination, then he will have died in vain.  But if someone here realizes that he is a sheep wandering without a shepherd, the Lord Jesus is beckoning you to come to Him.

August 22, 1942–December 9, 2001

Will You Be There?

~ K ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been feeling really sentimental lately with all these celebrity deaths. As a result, it’s gotten me thinking of my father who passed away in 2001. I was at PCC and he died on Sunday, December 9. It was the week of finals and my family (mother and my dad’s two sisters) thought it’d be better to let me finish up my finals without distractions so they didn’t tell me until they were driving me home from the airport on Saturday, December 14. I got 104 (extra credit) on Mr. Zila’s History test and knew my dad would love to hear that since he loved any grades that were 100+. Instead, I suddenly found myself preparing a eulogy for my father’s funeral on December 17.

Most of you know by now that I’m a huge Michael Jackson (MJJ) fan. Well, you can thank my dad for that. Back in 1992 around the time the Free Willy movie came out, MJJ came out with a song called “Will You Be There.” My father loved that song TONS and back then said he wanted it played at his funeral. Well since I had no hand in funeral preparations (and I was still in the clutches of IFBism), it was never played. It’s something I regret not fighting for. To make up for it, I chose to walk down the aisle to “Will You Be There” as a tribute to my father.

All that to say that 8 years later, I still miss my dad. I’m over the bitterness about my family not telling me my father died sooner because I know they did it in my best interest. (Apparently when my uncle died of AIDS in the early ’90s, they had to give me a sedative to get me to calm down because I was so hysterical. They figured if that’s what happened with my uncle, I’d be ridiculous upon my father’s death. I wasn’t.) I talk to my husband about him but I feel like I’m talking about some imaginary person who never existed. (BTW, I know that’s a redundant phrase.) I don’t know how to keep his memory alive. What makes things worse is that I really lost my dad a long time ago. My father struggled with schizophrenia/paranoia and so the father that I had at 12 was radically different from the father I ended up with when I was 16. He passed away from a heart attack when I was 19. My mom said she watched his eyes fly open and gasp for air. He started foaming out the mouth and couldn’t breathe. She watched him die on their bed in their bedroom. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to me about his passing until a few years later.

Many of the memories I have of my father are fading and that scares me. We used to go to the park and toss around a football even though I was hopelessly nonathletic. (I still enjoyed it immensely.) One Christmas when all my parents could afford was one gift, he found out which CD I wanted the most that year and got it for me (Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill). When MJJ’s Live in Bucharest concert was being played on VH1 (wow – remember when they used to play music videos?!) after we first got cable, he called me in from my bedroom because he knew I’d love to see it. (His “Smooth Criminal” choreography always amazes me but I found out he stole it from Fred Astaire.) I’m writing this out, hoping it stays with me.

Me and DaddyAnyway, I wrote all that as a partial vent and also to ask how do you keep the memories of your loved ones alive. My husband will never know my father on this earth. My kids (if I ever have any) will think of my dad only as some kind of fairy tale. Pictures of him are limited but here’s one I found and scanned into my computer. I just try to think that he’s still looking down at me and smiling—whether I’m perfect or not.