My dad looked at me with a gleam in his eye. A gleam that told me I was important, that I was loved.
At the viewing before his funeral many people approached me, offering their love and condolences. I felt grateful for the support, but I also felt numb and lost.
Until, with a tap on my shoulder, I turned to meet that same love filled gleam in the eye of another.
When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!
Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.
A flood of peace washed over me as I fell into the embrace of a man who–though he had only been a part of my life for a short time–looked at me the same way my father had. He made me feel important, he made me feel loved and he made me feel safe.
I felt the spirit whisper, “Behold thy Father” and I knew–with the sweetest comfort–I wasn’t alone.
My father-in-law’s death, sixteen years later, was sudden and surreal. He–like my dad–left way too soon.
As I lay in his bed that night after he died, his spirit washed over me, engulfing me–with the sweetest comfort–in the warmth of his love.
I miss him. Especially on days like today, his 75th birthday. I imagine what it would be like to have him here. To bake him a cake. To sing a song. And to hear his laughter.
I want my kids to have their grandpa, both of their grandpas, and I want my dads.
But though they are gone, I still feel them sometimes. With that familiar tap on my shoulder and spirit embrace. And I know they’re looking after me–the love filled gleam still shining in their eyes–reminding me I’m not alone.