This morning I burst out laughing in response to some silly thing. I sounded just like my dad. I was stopped in my tracks as I listened to a voice that I have not heard in many years. My dad’s laughter was deep, hilarious, and contagious. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I heard it in my own.

My dad died too young. Too soon. He died when I was too young. We weren’t done yet. We weren’t done sharing our lives, sharing our ideas, sharing our love for one another. We weren’t done getting to know each other. In some ways, we were just getting started. Our relationship as father and daughter ended too early. My dad was 81 when he died, and I was 55.  And I was only just beginning to figure it out.

It’s been six years now, and moments like I experienced this morning remind yet again of the profound, delicate, and oft complicated bond between a daughter and her father. Ours was more complicated than not because our lives were so complicated – his, mine, and ours together. And when, deep down the road of my journey, my life found some rest, my dad was closing in on the finish line of his, and deepening our bond meant simply spending quiet time together. And yet, on that afternoon when I said good-bye, profound and delicate were all I knew. My dad loved me dearly and I loved him. When all the puzzle pieces are fitted in their rightful place, this is the only piece that matters. This is the piece that completes the picture. This is redemption.

My dad’s photograph sits on our piano, a fitting place of honor as he was a successful and much-loved musician and teacher. Countless times I have run the duster over the wooden frame and wished for one more conversation, one more chance to know and be known. By God’s grace, regret has bowed to forgiveness. A continuing understanding of the who and why of “me”, and the flow of God’s Spirit working in me has allowed me to realize that I am continuing to grow(up) long after my dad is gone. I am beginning to see that much of what went unsaid or un-pursued with him was because, more times than not, I simply did not have the personal healing, or knowledge, or courage it takes to grow a relationship deeper. What I have believed to be my failures is now becoming an understanding of life and the timing we don’t always get to set. Not even on our own maturity.

Reading my last lines, that voice inside me persists, “But you could have; you should have…” And I will acknowledge culpability where it is due – and then I will rest in the forgiveness that Jesus has purchased and sit for a moment in gratefulness and awe. I do not believe for one moment that the Spirit of God has drawn forth this pondering from my soul in order to shame me or to impose sorrow. No, He exposes and enlightens in order to heal and restore. Uttering my dad’s laugh this morning was a means of grace by which I continue to grow in grace. To offer grace. To recognize grace. Uttering my dad’s laugh showed me that though we had an imperfect relationship as all do, we were father and daughter. Though I did not know then what I know now, we did share our lives, we did share our ideas, and we did love each other. I am left with an abundance of good and loving memories, and I see his characteristics revealed in my children. And we have the same laugh. As I breathe, I know my dad would tell me we did okay…..

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