This past Sunday was our first Father's Day without Barry. To be honest, I had been in denial about it's approach and was caught off guard Saturday night when I realized Father's Day was the next day. Needless to say, I spent most of Saturday night grieving.
I grieved for my husband. I grieved for what no longer was. I grieved for my children. Barry had always had a hard time with Father's Day. Not having a dad made it a rough day for him. When William was born, it was so much fun to see how a day that had once been so painful became a day of celebrating the precious gift and responsibility God had given him. One of his greatest desires was to give William and Layla a life and a relationship with their daddy that he never had. So, in facing our first Father's Day without him and the realization that Father's Day would always be hard for the kids was so painful. I felt overwhelmed with sadness and loss.
On Sunday afternoon, I received an email from a woman I did not know. She told me how Barry had impacted her life. And then she said something that, in my grief, had not yet occurred to me. She said that while we were celebrating our first Father's Day without him, he was celebrating his first Father's Day with his Father. In my grief, I had been so focused on our pain, that I had forgotten about the beautiful gift Barry had been given. Not only is he before the Lord, with no more pain and sorrow, but he is in the presence of his daddy - his real daddy. For that, I am overcome with gratitude.
Psalm 68:5 tells us that God is "father to the fatherless." He was always Barry's father. Now Barry has the joy of seeing his father face to face. And God is father to William and Layla. And while they can no longer see their earthly daddy and cannot yet see their heavenly father, they are not without a dad. They have 2. One that loved them fiercely while here on earth, and one that loves them perfectly from heaven.