Love Forever
During Mass yesterday, I found myself a little bored. Maybe it was the beautiful weather after a cold and dark winter, or the anticipation of the Mets and Yankees game, but I just couldn’t appreciate the prayerful experience before me.
Then, out of nowhere, Lily, my 6-year-old, stood up from her pew and moved a little closer.
“You are the best dad in the world,” Lily whispered. “I am going to love you forever,” she added before returning to her seat.
With that, I did all in my power not to breakdown in tears.
Her words just struck a chord. I am more vulnerable than usual, most likely due to her birthday last week and my 20th round of chemo tomorrow.
As her birthday concluded last Wednesday, I was overwhelmed with both gratitude and sadness. Grateful for the wonderful day we had, but also sad in wondering what her future birthdays would entail. I am also struck by the fact that I am about to receive my 20th round of chemo. Like any other milestone, it is hitting me differently as I can begin to appreciate what the past 10 months have been.
So, with all this vulnerability, Lily’s Sunday morning verbal love-note hit even harder.
In the silence afterwards her whisper, her words landed as music to my ears. She tells me I am a great dad all the time (she is kind like that), but to say she was going to love me forever just moved me.
At first, it addressed one of my biggest fears- that she is so young and that she may not remember me. While I pray my healing journey leads to a very long life, cancer reminds you that nothing is guaranteed. I always assumed I would accompany her and her sister through teenage years, education, and early to mid-adulthood. That all changed last July with the words “Stage IV Cancer.”
How wonderful it is to think that she will love me forever, that she would love me because she remembers me, and she knows how much her old man loved her. Part of my writing and videos is an attempt to capture this love just in case I am not around to remind her in person. While I still wonder how much a 6-year-old can recall later in life, her words were a blessed assurance that her old man desperately wanted to hear.
As I reflected more on her words, I started to sit with the idea of her love for me. So often, I think as parents, we focus on our love for our children. I have written about this before, that our love is just a glimpse into how much God loves us as God’s children. How important it is for kids to know that their parents and God love them unconditionally.
But this was different. This was her love, in reverse, for me. It is love coming from a different direction. It is the love from my daughter that reveals God’s love for me.
One of the reasons we might fear death is the absence of love. To leave this familiar place where we are surrounded by love to the uncertainty of death is frightening. Even the most faithful among us must ask, “What if there is nothing after this?” In other words, “What if I am no longer loved.”
In that whisper, it wasn’t just Lily saying, “I am going to love you forever.” It was God saying it too.
Now, I can tell you that over the roller coaster of this past year, I have spent many hours pondering what is next. My healing journey is a faith journey, one where I am discovering the depths of God’s love. Because of this, I can trust in the mystery of life and death.
How blessed I am that Lily, in a gentle whisper, can remind me of how loved I am, both here and beyond.
