The Grief Diet: On the loss of my father

"?" by Robert Stadler

My grief and I have been residing in dark, dark places. I often have wondered whether I will succumb to this abyss or find my way out.

I have lost my faith these past 10 months. Everything I believed has been rattled and tossed about. I have been on a search for answers. My dad always teased me because I was incessant about “why?” I could never just settle for the simple answer. He would say “because” and that just wasn’t good enough for me. It would force us into long discussions that he was never prepared for. But he always gave me an answer that would satisfy me, or at least for a little bit.

Well, I am at it again. Why? Why? Why? Why? He is not here to say, “because, because, because, because.” He cannot give me the answers. I must find them for myself.

I have grown tired of being alone in these dark places. I know that the only thing that is going to help me find my way out will be my faith. There is no human being, alcoholic beverage, sleeping pill, or memory that is going to reach down and bring me back out. For me, it must be God. I want it to be God.

Just in realizing this, I am finding myself looking at a glimmer of light. I am comforted by it. I am seeing what my father saw in me. I am seeing the kind of faith he had. Just a little.

Maybe with my faith, I will not just crawl out of the abyss, but walk out. Finally, with my head held high and my grief at my side rather than on my back, I will become more of the person I was meant to be. Maybe, I will finally be at peace with the simple answer of “because.”

I was sitting in a fancy hotel room. (No banging doors or lady I might have to beat up like last time.) I was being interviewed by a reputable treatment center for a great job. I couldn’t believe they wanted to talk to me. As one of the interviewers escorted me down to the hotel lobby, he stated that I got the job. He said that my background check would have to clear and then it would be official. (Thank God I didn’t get arrested prior to my father’s funeral!)

I was so excited that I practically skipped out to the parking lot. I got in my car, treated myself to coffee from Starbucks, and headed down the I-25 freeway. I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled down to “Thompson dad.” I had always called him with any kind of news, good or bad. His number was ringing. In a moment I realized that he would not be picking up. My joy quickly diminished and the pain resurfaced. My success no longer felt real. I pulled over on this busy freeway and started to cry.

I am quite used to this scenario, as it happens more than I’d like to admit. What struck me was the anger. I wanted to strike out at someone and this time it wasn’t some lady in a hotel room. It was God. Where is God? I sat watching thousands of people passing me while I sat in anguish. I felt completely and utterly alone in my pain. I thought, “Can’t I have one freaking moment of joy, comfort, peace?” It was like I was stranded in the middle of the desert. I wanted just one sip of water. For goodness sakes, I wasn’t asking for a roaring river or grand lake. Just a sip. But no relief came and I just sat in my car desolate.

C. S. Lewis, in his book A Grief Observed, articulates the flood of emotion I experienced that day:

Meanwhile, where is God? This is one of the most disquieting symptoms. When you are happy … and turn to him with gratitude and praise, you will be–or so it feels–welcomed with open arms. But go to him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait the more emphatic the silence will become. There are no lights in the windows. It might be an empty house. Was it ever inhabited? It seemed so once. And that seeing was as strong as this. What can this mean? Why is he so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble.

I too have heard this sound of the doors locking, bolting, and double bolting from the inside. I don’t turn away. I wait for something, anything. I stand at the door and knock. I have knocked, pounded, and attempted to pull the door off the hinges. To no avail. All I get is nothing. Absolutely nothing.