Dear Daddy: Dealing with Grief and Embracing Faith

Two years ago today, you cut your last birthday cake. You’d turned 73, and every time I look at the pictures and videos from that day, I am so sad seeing how frail you had become from all the chemo you were having to go through. Yet you remained positive and still tried to live your life as normally as possible – working and all. I remember in that moment, when you were cutting your cake, you said, “Ndinoriona here ini rechi74?” (Translation: Will I get to see my 74th one?) I swallowed a blob of hurt and pain hearing you say that, even though we did encourage and assure you that, of course, you would.

But you didn’t. God decided it was time. Exactly 34 days later, He called you Home. Oh, the pain of that day! Even as I type this out, it’s cutting through my chest like a blunt bread knife – rough, painful, lasting. And that blob in my throat is back, wanting me to cry. I don’t even think I realised the full impact of losing you at that moment because of everything that needed to be done—funeral logistics and all the drama associated with that.

Then it all passed, and life had to go on. The fact that the real funeral starts when everyone else is gone is not talked about enough. By the time you passed, I was already in therapy dealing with the lemons life had dealt me. So I continued, but to be honest, I didn’t feel better as soon as I would have wanted. Life seemed to be getting worse. On the outside, to someone who I hadn’t told what I was going through, it appeared like I had it all together – a strong woman who had it all figured out. But deep down inside, my world was falling apart. Everything was just crumbling, and more than anything, I needed you.

I needed my daddy. I needed your assurance. I needed your encouragement. I needed your protection. I needed you to deal with some people who were getting on my nerves because some people really muster the audacity to deliver nonsense behaviour once one’s parent is gone (I wish I were joking about this one 🙄). But no, daddy, you were gone.

In a last-ditch effort to “find you,” there was a day I went to the prayer garden at your parish, and the cry I cried that day. I was tired of a lot of things, and my spirit just needed some peace. That cry made me feel better. So I continued for a few weeks. Every day after dropping off your grandson at school, I would go into that garden – first to cry, then to pray. Eventually, it became just to read the Bible and pray. Some days, I would just sit and talk to myself.

I don’t remember at what point I stopped, but I know I was beginning to feel better. I guess this was the beginning of my journey with God and learning to depend on Him wholly and fully. Because prior to that, ah, I depended on you, daddy – the solver of my two million seven hundred thousand five hundred and sixty-two problems.

I was telling someone the other day that you took care of so many aspects of our lives that after you left, I was so disoriented that I even struggled to eat right for a bit. You always made sure there was healthy food around and would challenge us to make healthy choices. Dude, I know snitches get stitches, but the amount of cake that was eaten in the house last year? You would have been disgusted, I know. Also, Mum, if you are reading this, I am not saying you don’t give us healthy options. You just don’t make us feel bad for eating cake.

Anyway, I digressed. So fast forward to this year – emotionally, I have gotten better. I started finding my way out of the pit of depression and sadness that clouded me after you had gone. The forgiveness journey my therapist got me started on two years ago began putting more pressure on me this year as I came to understand more about what Jesus did for me on the cross and the depth of God’s love for me. And understanding that I always have a Father in Him. He loved me first.

I started rebuilding my life (again 😂). They should crown me the Queen of New Beginnings at this point, right? I also accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour. I got baptised. I forgave. I asked for forgiveness. I went back to school. I started reading more books and watching less TV. I lost a whole 10kg since your funeral! Your girl is out here drinking water, eating more cabbage, minding her own business and making you proud 😂.

I’ve started feeling a sense of calm even in the middle of storms. There are so many things that don’t appear “right” in my life at the moment, but since I learned another (more sustainable) way to fight my life’s battles, I have found so much reassurance from the promises of God’s Word. I read my Bible often, and it is so comforting.

That said, I still think of you and every memory we shared often. And I miss you every day. We used to drive each other up the wall, but we still had each other. You always had my back in all seasons, even when your support was sometimes served with a side of your unfiltered, Korekore ChiKunda-inspired comments.

There are things I go through today that make me wonder what you would say about them. For instance, I know for a fact if you were here, you’d be the one telling me everything I need to know about Autism because you liked to read on EVERYBODY’s behalf and then hook us up with the summary. But I now believe nothing is wasted in God’s Kingdom. You had to go. Even though I would have wanted more time with you, it was God’s time. And it’s OK. In trying to “find you” after you were gone, I found Him who is ALWAYS with me, who protects and provides for me, who sustains my life and who gives me unexplainable peace. So, it’s OK.

Today, I remember you and my dearest Bamnini John (Translation: Uncle John). Did you two REALLY share the same birthday, though? Like for real, for real? Or was it one of those Rhodesia shenanigans? I actually have an imagination in my head of what you did when you collected your IDs. Anyway, only God knows. I think of you both fondly, but still with tears. I pray for you and look forward to when we get to meet again on Resurrection morning.

P.S. The plan was to have watermelon for your birthday. But, Ko ndikatenga risinganake? (Translation: What if I buy one that doesn’t taste good?) Better safe than sorry ✌️😂