Bridgette to Bridgette: Let your guard down. Trust that this has a purpose. Turn and face your pain. And tonight, write only for an audience of One. You aren’t changing your behavior because you are not processing what is happening. You have to walk it out if you want to see the top of this hill… you have to climb. You can’t just camp out on the bottom. So be here. Be real. And just talk to Him.
I want to write this post anonymously. I realize that kind of messes up the whole being open and honest thing… but I don’t really want to write about my dad… or the lack there of, I guess I should say. I don’t want to hurt the man who has loved me like I was his own… but I still have pain from the first one dying. But I have to face this and I know it.
I remember when I was little and I would wish to see my dad on my birthday candles. I thought that somehow, some way, he could just come and have a conversation with me. I just wanted to see him just one time. I think I am a little angry actually that I don’t even know what my father looks like from my own eyes. That sucks. I am upset that he was taken from me so early and I don’t even know what he was like outside of second-hand stories. And these stories… they made him perfect. They made him this immortally amazing human who did no wrong. So why, then, do I have so many flaws? Why am I so broken if he was so dang perfect?
I feel stupid using non-cussing cuss words. I mean, I get it. My words are important and I should be able to express myself without being offensive. I am conscious of the picture you showed me of my tongue being that of one of a snake, it retracting, and then my mouth being filled with flowers. I get it. I have to retract. I have to stop letting cussing being yet one more open door in my life.
I digress; I know that I can’t picture You in God form, in Abba form, because I don’t know what you look like. I don’t even know what my earthly father looked like; how am I supposed to know what You look like? It boggles my mind. You face is constantly rotating and changing and that is frustrating to me. I know that tonight I saw your eyes. Your amazing eyes. I know that they are filled with every color I have ever seen. I know that they are in motion. And I know that I don’t really know how to describe them.
I don’t really know what to say about my dad. It is hard to talk about someone that you don’t even know. It is hard. It is just hard. I know that is not what he would have wanted. I know that he didn’t leave me on purpose. I know it was an accident. I know that he wasn’t being foolish. At least, I hope he wasn’t. Either way, I know that him dying was not on purpose. And for that, I am grateful. Although it tears me in two that he was not there, knowing that he would have been there if he could have, is at least a small condolence.
For now, it is time for rest. At least for tonight.