Strength for tears. Gladness for Mourning. Peace for Despair.

On December 26th, 2009 the love of my life proposed marriage in the pouring rain on the edge of the ocean in San Francisco, California.
Kris became my sanity, the calm in my storm. We set a date, June 12th. The next 6 months most of my days consisted of sitting on my bed surrounded by piles of wedding magazines or on my laptop googling wedding ideas. Not having my mom around was tough. I called her constantly for her opinion and ideas. Then one day I googled "beach weddings." I came across a website ran by a destination wedding coordinator in San Diego, CA....as I scrolled down the page I saw "Coronado Beach." I had already made up my mind. 
Some of my fondest memories with my father were made on Coronado Island. Our family took several summer vacations there and it was always our dream to stay at Hotel Del Coronado. It was one of my favorite places. 
The website gave information on a wedding package where the couple would be married on the beach in front of the hotel. When I took the idea to Kris I tried to explain it in the most delicate way, assuming he wouldn't go for it. But, without even the slightest hesitation, he was on board! He loved the idea!


The big day was upon us, as I stood barefoot on the sidewalk out of the guests sight, I couldn't help but feel a little sad. It would not be my father walking me down the isle but mother. She stood in for him that day as she gave me away to my groom. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way, as she had been the example of strength I needed to get through the past year. I held her hand tightly as we made our way down the sandy isle, towards my future husband. I had always imagined that on my wedding day it would be my own father marrying my husband and I, but as I took my husbands hand and faced the minister, I was comforted to see my new Pastor standing there. I realized in that moment that God had meticulously placed this man in my life. Pastor Stacey Wiley and his wife had become not only my spiritual mentors, but the family I so longed for.
I had reserved time in the ceremony to memorialize my father. The wedding coordinator suggested I keep it simple and try not to do anything that might make people cry or become emotional. This woman had obviously never lost someone so close to her, so I politely told her not to worry about it, that I would decide was appropriate. We decided to each take a white rose and walk out to the edge of the beach and throw the petals into the ocean while playing one of my favorite songs, "Make you Feel my Love" by Adele. The moment was perfect. I watched as the tide came and carried the petals back into the ocean. I imagined the tide was God, and the petals my dad, as they floated out along the peaceful waters. I hoped he was at peace now. I asked God to forgive me for the days that I blamed him for what happened, and to help me forgive my father. I closed my eyes fighting back tears as I made a promise to my father that I would try my very best to live a happy life, just like he had wanted. I turned back towards the chairs filled with my family, my new family, old friends, and new friends, and I saw all that God had given me. I knew it wouldn't be easy but he had given me the tools I needed to move on with my life. And although there was a speck of sadness in my heart because my daddy was missing from that day, I felt more joy than I had in a very long time.
June 12th, 2010 was a day of healing. I was about to start a new life as a wife. The value in being a Godly woman had a whole new meaning to me. I was finally able to grasp what God had been trying to show me for a year. No where in the bible does God say "live for me and your life will be easy" but he does say "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness." Life is hard, no one ever said it was easy, but I stand on his word knowing he will never give me more than I can bear. God allows us to go through things so that we might be a testimony. Each day is a struggle, some days worse than others. Like when the anniversary of his death comes, or his birthday draws near. Even as I let my new baby girl help heal my heart, I still feel the hole that was left when my daddy took his life. But I have found peace and strength in my heavenly father. I cannot tell you how many times I have made my way to an altar, weak and weary, asking God for strength to make it through the week. I have felt his loving arms around me, filling my soul with comfort. It hurts my heart to hear people say that they don't believe in Jesus Christ. I sometimes wish that they were able to walk in my shoes for a while so that they might feel his presence like I do every single day and know it is because of his grace and mercy that I am here. I wish I could make them comprehend that I am happy today because of the Joy HE placed in my heart. 
Now, two and a half years later, I thank God for where he has brought me from, and I am truly proud of my testimony. I am a stronger person because of it. I learned to have complete faith in Christ, knowing that he has brought me this far for a reason. I am blessed to say that God has been better than good to me.
 I am a living testimony of God's perfect strength. 

Fork in the Road

In the following months I found myself tormented by guilt and loneliness. Everything happened so fast. My dad was dead and my family gone all in less than a month and a half. I struggled with making the decision to stay in Arizona. When everything was said and done, it was just too hard for me to continue attending my dad's church. Seeing his empty chair up on the platform was too painful. In making the decision to leave, I became even lonelier considering my life long friends whom I fellowshipped with multiple times a week were now people I only saw every so often. I began attending Worship & Word, the church my husband attended. I was very close with Pastor Wiley and his family and I truly loved the church, but I had a hard time finding friends like I had at PRC, as there weren't many my age.

I also had almost no family here. My great aunt and uncle lived in Phoenix, and a few cousins in Casa Grande but spending time with them was rare. As I mentioned before I was living with my husbands sister and brother-in-law, which was my saving grace. I loved them both dearly and grew very close with their daughters who were already calling me their auntie ken. I also adored Kris's entire family who were all so loving and kind to me. They continuously went out of their way to make me feel apart of the family. Although this made it bearable, it was not enough to mend my heart. 
Work became miserable for me. It was a very slow branch and I had too much time to get lost in my thoughts. I kept myself distant from my coworkers only fueling my self inflicted isolation. At times I would be driving and would start to cry. The cries would quickly turn into all out screams of anguish. I would be so overcome with emotion and as my vision blurred with tears I would pull over...sometimes even on the freeway at night. I would beat the steering wheel and scream "Why God!" On the verge of hyperventilation, I would eventually regain composer.

Most nights after work I would pick up dinner, come home and stay in my room till I cried myself to sleep. I would try to talk to Kris about how I felt but he couldn't even begin to comprehend what I was going through. He looked at me with pity in his eyes and I could see the helplessness written all over his face. I hated that look. It was a look everyone was giving me, when I went to work or church...it made me feel like I had the words "MY LIFE IS TRAGIC" stamped on my four head. I felt like no one could even have a normal conversation with me because they didn't know what to say, like I might burst into tears and have a meltdown if they said the wrong thing. This led to many awkward moments between myself and people I had known for years. I didn't want people to feel sorry for me because I wanted so badly for them to believe I was strong and above everything that had happened to me. Even though that was far from the truth. This time in the grieving process was the hardest as my emotions ranged from hopelessness to pure rage. One day I would be sad and melancholy, and the next I wanted to spend the entire day beating a punching bag. I recall one night my husband and I had gone to our gym which was and MMA boxing class and it was my turn to hit the bag. One hit after another I became livid, then suddenly a flood of tears came pouring down my face. I excused myself from the class embarrassed that I had lost control.

Still having a hard time deciding if my decision to stay was the right one or not, I distinctly remember a conversation Kris and I had. We were sitting in my room and I told him I just didn't know if I could stay. I told him how guilty I felt for not going with my mom. "She needs me," I said. But what I really meant was "I need her." We both cried and he asked if I felt we could have a long distance relationship...I cried even harder. My heart did not want to be more than 10 feet away from him, let alone thousands of miles. I was sick with confusion. We had not yet discussed marriage as I was only 19 but we both knew there would never be anyone else. I called my mom and told her how I was feeling, she told me I needed to stay, that Kris was a good man and I should not let him go. A couple of days later I told Kris I was staying, the relief on his face warmed my heart. Soon after our relationship took a more serious turn. 

Leaving the Little Girl Behind

Arrangements were made for my father to be buried in Turlock, CA the following week. As the plane hit the ground in Sacramento I let out a sigh of relief. It felt good to be away from Arizona and everything that was left behind. My mother, sister, and I stayed in a hotel in downtown Modesto. It felt strange to be just the three of us. The time spent in California was to be the start of my grieving. I sunk into a deep depression. I felt sadness consume me like I had never felt before. 
The day of the burial wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. The casket was closed by the time we arrived and it was a beautiful day and the grounds were lovely. Many people came to pay their respects which once again, surprised me. My dads cousins, Phil and Stephanie King sang "I can Only Imagine" before my Uncle Charles spoke. It is a song that will always remain close to my heart. As I watched them lower my father into the ground I felt numb. I cried only a little that day. I think deep inside, my mother, sister, brother, and I were relieved it was all over and we could now begin the process of moving on with our lives.
My mother had already made the decision to move back to Modesto with my sister and were staying a little longer in CA than I was. As I packed my suitcase and got ready to head to the airport, I sat on the edge of the bed in the hotel room staring out the window. I was going home to a place I never wanted to be again. A place that held the worst memory of my life. How was I going to do this by myself? I felt nauseous. I had a fantastic job and the love of my life waiting for me. But every fiber of my being wanted to stay right where I was, grasping tightly to my mothers hand. 
As I boarded the plane I swallowed the knot in my throat and tried to hold back the tears filling my eyes...despite my efforts, they came pouring as the plane took off. 
The next several weeks seemed like hell on earth. I went back to work at the bank and I felt so insecure. I was the girl whose dad killed himself. No one knew what to say to me, so they said nothing. I didn't know how I felt about this. A part of me was glad no one addressed the issue, but the sad girl inside of me wanted someone to ask if I was ok. But no one did, and I guess it was better that way. I went on about my life the best I could, but it wasn't easy. Everyday was a struggle and I wrestled with questions constantly running though my mind every minute of the day. 
When my mom and sister flew back into town I picked them up from the airport. Mom started packing while back in Modesto the family looked for a house for mom to buy. They found one and just like that she bought it. My birthday came and went as I really didn't feel like celebrating. August will always be a bitter sweet month for me. Then, on September 11, just 36 days after my dad died, my mom and sister moved to California.
I went to the house as they were loading up the car. My Nana was driving them back to Modesto because my mother was in no condition to drive the trip by herself as it was about an 11 hour drive. They packed the car as full as they could and left the whole house boxed up and ready for the movers. I hugged my mom tight not wanting to let her go. I was happy for them because I knew this is the only way they would survive and God had them in the palm of his hands. But as the car turned the corner and was gone from my view, I felt true loneliness for the first time in my life. I turned around and faced the house. As I stood in the driveway I tried to imagine what life was like before this happened. I let my mind wonder as I relived moments spent there, both good and bad. This was the defining moment of my life. The moment everything changed. My whole entire world would be different now. Who I was before this day was no longer the person that was standing on the pavement with the hot September sun beating down on my back. I was alone. I wasn't a child anymore. Barely 19 I was thrust into the reality that I had to grow up, and fast.
I took a deep breath and got in my car. I didn't know where to go or who to call. So I sat there in my car outside the house that I used to call home where my father killed himself. 

The First Goodbye

The morning of the funeral was another that passed by in a blur. My sister and I got ready at the hotel then headed the house. Mom was getting ready, dressed in all black she looked beautiful as always, but she still seemed vacant and out of sorts. At some point that morning mom let my brother and I read Dad's suicide note....it only proved the state of mind we assumed he was in before he took his life. My heart ached as I read the words. I wasn't satisfied. I guess I wanted more...an explanation. 

Reading the note only caused more anguish for what was to come that day. My sister and I both wrote something to read at the funeral, I told my sister I would read her for her because I knew when the time came it would be very overwhelming for her. 

We drove to the church in silence...I was nervous. I didn't know how to act or who would be there. I was most afraid to see his body again. 

Some ministers came out and ushered us in through the side door. I followed my mom as we walked to the front row of the church. I kept my head down as we made our way across the alter area.  When I looked up I almost let out an overwhelming gasp! The church was even more packed that it had been the night before. I saw familiar faces and faces i'd never seen before. It was comforting in a way, to see all the people mourning with my family. 

The service started almost immediately after we arrived. Many people spoke, Bishop Randy Keys, Pastor Stacie Wiley, just to name a few. It came time for us to address the crowd. First my brother spoke, then it was my turn, my sister walked to the pulpit with me which made me feel more at ease. I imagined I might cry but I did not. I pretended I was reading a speech at school. I even managed to make eye contact with the congregation.

Below are the letters, starting with mine....

My father, my pastor. there are no words to even begin to describe what an incredibly brilliant man my daddy was. He had such an amazing outlook on the things of God. I remember that he would research and study until the wee hours of the morning for one sermon. I wish so badly that I could hear him preach just one more message. He was so funny and quick witted...I loved going on roadtrips with him because he would tell us the funniest stories about him and his brothers and how he was the highschool hearthrob and how he managed to finagle my mom into marrying him and becoming the wife of a preacher. His humor has carried me through many rough mornings when we would sit on the couch and drink Coffee...he was so wise. No matter the advise, or what it was for, it was always exactly what needed to be done...when i would follow dads advice my situation would take a turn for the better...and if i didn't.....well let's just say i should have always listened to daddy.

On August the 6th, of 2009, God took a facsinating man from us all. He was my pastor, my daddy, and my friend. there will never be another like him. I promise to tell share his story of the life he didicated completely to the Lord. His works have spread across this nation and live in many hearts today. i morne for the loss of a man who cannot be duplicated but will be forever missed. I pray that he is at peace and I am asking God for the strength to take another breath so that I may live my life in a way that would have made my father proud. all i ask is that God may grant me a husband and sons who are in likeness to my daddy, and that I might one day touch as many lives as he has.

I love you dad, Rest In Peace.

People say I was his budy. and I was. we shared interest in things that werent very important to most people. He would always talk to me about culture ,history and every smart little fact you could think of. I thought he was just a genius,and he was. he knew everything about everything . It seemed like he knew all the answers. Homework answers,bible answers,and even life answers. He would always ask me about my future and what I wanted to do.of course I answered different every time but he always showed as much enthusiasm as he did with my last career path. I will always remember the last trip my dad and I went on. We went to flagstaff and rode the ski lift. It was my first time and I was SCARED, but some how I couldn't help but feel safe with my dad hangin around. On our way up the mountain on the ski lift we talked about everything imaginable. and on the way down we took pictures with his camera. the scenery was beautiful and I can remember him reminding me that all the mountains and trees were all a creation of god. He asked me his usual question about my career choice. my answer surprised him. i told him all about my interest in going to college. and his face lit up like a christmas tree.the rest of the way down we talked about college possibilities. I can remember him being so proud of me and listening to me ramble on about school and what we learned but he always seemed enthralled with it all. In the end I think he was. to me my dad was a true man of god and a man who knew everything. He was kind hearted and a wonderful pastor,father,and huband. he will be missed but remembered.

The service was very long, lasting several hours. At the end as people started to line up to pay their respects, I felt overwhelmingly anxious. I knew that soon they would be closing the casket and that would be the last time I would see his face. 

The last few guests trickled out of the sanctuary and into the lobby. The ushers closed and locked the doors and all that remained was immediate family. I will never forget the sight of my sister bent over with her head in my dads chest as she weeped. I myself still could not bring myself to do more than lightly rest my hand on his arm. To this day I regret that. I wish I had the strength to do as my sister did and weep on my fathers chest.

They informed us it was time to close the casket...my mom asked for one last minute alone with him. I watched as kissed him and spoke softly. She backed away from him and took my hand. They began to close the casket in what seemed like movie time slow motion. I stopped breathing. As the casked shut, my mother nearly collapsed and let out an all too familiar scream. The realization of never seeing my fathers face again was like having my heart ripped from my chest.