Musings on a Broken Dad

I think I can say without a doubt that December 24, 2002 was the worst day of my life.  The year had been a tough one: finding out my dad had lived a secret life I knew nothing about for the first 21 years of my life, finding out he was arrested and ultimately sentenced to 6 months in jail, and ending up on academic probation my first semester of graduate school in part because it was hard and in part because I was so preoccupied and distracted from everything going on in my family.  The whole year was a tough one -- but without a doubt, the hardest day of my life was December 24, 2002.

The sting of learning I'd be on academic probation was still fresh.  The enormity of everything I'd learned about in my family's past still loomed large over me.  But on Christmas Eve as I waited to see my dad in his orange jumpsuit for 15 minutes, it was the lowest I have ever felt in my life.  I felt the embarrassment and shame of his crime.  I felt the crushing loss of innocence.  I felt the loss of everything I'd felt was the truth of my childhood, knowing it was a fake veneer that covered the truth of who my dad was.

As I held his Christmas gift -- gray sweats I'd bought from Walmart, the only jail-approved alternatives to the orange jumpsuit -- in my hands that day I wondered, "What has my life become?  Will it ever be normal again?"

Over time, things became more normal.  My dad was released from jail and, although he never matured into an emotionally present adult, I learned to live with it.  I went through counseling and spent lots of time with Jesus working to unravel and understand and make sense of my life.  I eventually believed that my dad's choices truly were his own and in no way were a reflection on my past and were not leading me to an inevitable future where I would repeat his mistakes.  Basically, I both came to terms with my past and realized that I could live a future that is fully aware of what had happened, yet not overshadowed or defined by it.  And that was freeing.

But every few years, it feels like something rips the band aid off of the wound that has been healing in my heart for years.  It stings and is a fresh reminder of the pain that is there.

This week my dad was rearrested -- this time for four felonies, not a misdemeanor.  This time, there is DNA evidence linking him to the crime.  This time -- if he pleads guilty and there's not a plea deal for something less serious -- we are talking years in prison, not months in jail.  And that's just all really hard to process, especially given that he's already 70 and his health is not great.  It's hard not to play that all out to some pretty obvious logical conclusions.

This week has been a fresh reminder of how broken my dad is and how hard all of this is.  It has been a fresh reminder of how much all of this hurts when it's right in your face.  At the same time, what I can say is that I am in a much better place to deal with it all this time.  I am surrounded by a great group of people who are my friends and who love me unconditionally.  I more fully understand that God uses ALL THINGS  -- even the shitty, heartbreaking things like this -- together for His good.

This has been the hardest week I've had in 4-5 years, but God has been faithful through it all.  I would appreciate your prayers for our family because this has been one hell of a week and this storm is likely to get a bit worse before it gets better.  And while it is very very fragile and just a dim flicker at this point, I do hold out hope that my dad will come to understand the both weight of his issues and that he will come to know and turn his issues over to Jesus.  I pray that even in his old age, he will experience some healing.  Please pray for our family; we need it.