As I made my way to the fellowship hall, I felt like I was drowning in emotion while my two friends, Valentina and Jamie, followed quietly behind me without saying a word.
"I'm sorry you both had to miss the rest of the sermon," I said, my voice shaky.
"And right when it was starting to get really good too. It's just, I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel so overwhelmed right now."
"It's okay, we're here for you," Valentina said, giving me a reassuring smile.
"Take a deep breath, girl," she continued, as Jamie handed me a tissue.
"You don't have to apologize for anything, Gabriana. We understand. Take all the time you need. We are here for you."
I wiped my tears away, feeling like I could barely breathe. Then I opened up about something I had not really talked about in years.
"When I was in junior high, I had this awful fear of losing my father. I was so scared of it, and it only got worse as his health continued to deteriorate over the next year. I could not sleep at night. I would lie awake in bed, scared that the next day I would wake up and he would not be there."
"Then one morning, my mother sat me down and told me he had died in a terrible car accident, just like that. He was gone. I felt like I could not breathe. I have never been able to get that moment out of my mind. I wish I could have spent more time with him. Maybe then I would not feel so frustrated. When I see other kids spending time with their fathers, it just, it hurts," I said as I started to cry.
"I see them everywhere, at church picnics, at the park, at the grocery store. Dads teaching their daughters to ride bikes, helping with homework, cheering at soccer games. Every single time, I feel this ache in my chest that will not go away. It is like watching everyone else get something I can never have again."
"I try to be happy for them, I really do. But then I remember my dad teaching me to ride my bike in our driveway, his hands steady on the handlebars, his voice saying, 'I've got you, baby girl.' And I want to scream because he is not here anymore. He will never walk me down the aisle! He will never meet my children!"
"They get their whole lives with their dads, and I only got fourteen years. How is that fair? And I hate that I feel jealous of them. I hate that their happiness reminds me of everything I lost. But I cannot help it."
"Every Father's Day, every daddy's daughter dances at church. Every time I hear a girl call out 'Dad,' it is like losing him all over again."
"But then I forget about it, and suddenly I remember, and it feels like I am drowning in a river of emotion all over again."
I rested my head on Jamie's shoulder while trying my best to hold it together. They did not say anything, just stood there listening to my painful story as they held me tightly, their faces full of compassion as I poured out my heart. For a while, none of us spoke. The silence was not uncomfortable, it was the kind of quiet that comes when friends are truly present with each other in pain.
Valentina finally spoke up, her voice gentle. "Gabriana, I cannot even imagine what that must have been like. Watching your father's health decline, and then losing him so suddenly." She reached over and squeezed my hand.
"I am sorry that you felt you had to bear this burden alone. We will always be here for you," Valentina said.
"That is right, you are not alone," Jamie added softly.
"And it is okay that you do not have all the answers right now. Nobody expects you to," Valentina replied.
I wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself. "But that is just it. I keep asking God why. Why did he let this happen? Why my dad? And I have never gotten an answer. Sometimes I find myself wondering if He is even listening."
Valentina leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "You know, when my grandmother died last year, I felt the same way. I was so angry with God. I could not understand why he would take someone so precious to me, someone my family depended on."
"What helped you?" I asked, desperate for something, anything, to hold onto.
"Honestly, time. And learning that it is okay to be angry, that God is big enough to handle our questions, our doubts, even our rage. What matters is that we keep talking with Him daily, even when we do not get the answers we want."
Jamie nodded in agreement.
"And sometimes we will not even understand until we are on the other side of heaven. Our pastor, Ruben, always tells us that God does not waste anything. Even our deepest pain can become something He can use for His own honor and glory, even if we cannot understand how."
"But how do you trust Him when everything feels so broken?" The question came out almost as a whisper.
Valentina thought for a moment. "You do not have to have perfect faith, Gabriana. You just have to take the next step, even if it is a tiny one. Why don't we lead you in a prayer?"
They grabbed my hands and said this prayer with me.
Dear Lord Jesus,
My heart is broken, and I do not understand why You allowed this to happen. I am angry, I am confused, and I am hurting so much. Help me to trust You even when I cannot see the purpose. Comfort me in my grief and remind me that my father is with You now. Heal the parts of my heart that feel so empty without him. Give me strength to take the next step, even when I do not understand where I am going. And help me to believe that You can use even this pain for something good, even when I cannot imagine how. In Jesus name, I pray, Amen.
"Try to talk with people who understand what you are going through. Most importantly, read the Scriptures daily, even if it does not make sense right away. And lean on the congregation. That is what we are all here for," said Valentina.
"The church is not going anywhere," Jamie added firmly.
"You do not have to go through this alone. We will walk through it with you for as long as it takes."
I looked at both of them, feeling a warmth spread through my chest despite the pain.
"Thank you. I do not know what I would do without the two of you around."
"I know it does not make sense right now," Valentina said, her voice steady and sure, "but God can use this. Even when we do not understand it, we just have to trust in Him. And we will also be here to help you through it."
Valentina's voice softened even more. "You know what helped me? Remembering that death is not the end. The Bible promises us, 'Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him' (1 Thessalonians 4:13 to 14). You will see your dad again, Gabriana, in heaven. This separation on earth is temporary."
"I want to share something that helped me," Valentina said, pulling out her phone. "It is a poem about grief and hope. It is called 'Till Death Do Us Apart.'"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Till Death do us Apart,
*O Death, where is thy grievous sting?
*O Grave, where is thy vaunted victory?
*Thy sorrow lingers, yet what purpose does it serve thee, except to strengthen thy faith in travail's hour?
*In seasons dark and filled with woe, I draw me nigh unto the Lord.
*O Son of God, whose blood was shed, and whose cross did ransom mortal souls; for sin demanded separation, yet mercy answered with Thy love.
*And God did grant us victory sure through Christ our Lord and Savior dear; for Death itself could not contain Him, nor chains of darkness bind His power.
*Wherefore keep our bitterness within the heart, seeing Love abide within our breast?
*Though our trespass nailed Him to the tree, and every sin did hold Him fast; yet still His love, so vast and tender, doth fill the hollow places of the soul.
*Trust then His mercy, endless sweet, His love, His grace, His pardoning hand; and thou shalt never walk alone, nor dwell in shadows void of peace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When she finished reading the poem, I felt comforted by it. When it was finally time for them to leave, I felt different, not fixed, not healed, but less alone. And maybe that was enough for now.
Saying the words out loud, telling them about Dad, it felt like ripping open a wound I had been trying to keep closed. But maybe that is what healing requires. Maybe I have been so afraid of the pain that I have never let anyone close enough to help me carry it. Valentina and Jamie did not try to fix me or tell me everything would be okay. They just stayed. And somehow, that meant more than any perfect answer ever could.
"Take care, Gabriana. You have my number if you decide you need someone to talk with," said Valentina as she clutched the gold rose heart locket in her hands.
"We love you very much, girl. Call if you feel like you cannot escape a bad situation, and we will rush to help you," said Jamie.
I stayed a little longer to gather my thoughts and reflect on what had happened during the worship service. As I did, I remembered how much strength and support I could find in being part of a community of believers that cared about me, even when I was not able to attend classes every week due to my depression.
And I remembered what Peter said in 1 Peter 5:6 to 7, "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." He cares about every fear and every question.