My Two Fathers
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38-39 (NASB)
My dad passed away today.
After battling Parkinson’s Disease for 15 years, he passed from this life to the eternal - the victor and is now whole. We gathered around him for the last several days and hours of life, with all of my brothers and sisters and my mom with her head on his chest. She was feeling every breath. Every moment of life. Connecting to the love they shared for 59 years. Not even his body failing would be able to stop the love from flowing richly to one another.
When he exhaled for the last time, we cried. We deeply let the grief express itself. We held onto his body, knowing his spirit was with Jesus but still reaching for the dad and husband we loved. Even at this moment, the love is palpable. The love is present. The love sustains us and holds us together.
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life… will be able to separate us from the love of God,
which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38-39 (NASB)
I learned the familiar verses that come at the end of Romans 8 many years ago. I have held them close to me during times of struggle and heartache. I have written them and spoken them to people in pain and grief and life’s hardest struggles. However, until this day, I do not think I have experienced its truth to the depths that I know now.
Death is a horrible, gut-wrenching reality in this life. It robs and steals and takes away a most precious person. Its ability to plunge you into grief is unparalleled. The depths of sorrow seem to go deeper and deeper. But I also have come to compare the depth of that sorrow by the depth of love that was known.
As I write this at my parent’s dining room table, I am sitting across from the chair my father sat in. And in this moment, I can assuredly tell you - Love wins. Even though my father is no longer physically present, and I can literally feel his absence; even though the sorrow is deep, Love is deeper. Greater. I sit here and am present in the grief, but I am not destroyed by it because love is greater.
Here’s better news. As much as I knew my father’s love, there is an even GREATER love and it is the Only Love that conquers not just my father’s death but ALL death. My father was an amazing man, but he was not perfect. He failed and disappointed others. He was not always perfectly loving, for no one is. He was, however, a dim reflection of my Heavenly Father whose power and perfection makes even the deepest earthly love seem small. I am proud to carry my father’s name as I was graced to be his daughter. But he would tell me if he could that even after all he did as my dad, as he exists in the very presence of God, our Heavenly Father is so much more.
Eternally,
Unfathomably,
Immeasurably,
More.
My father would tell us that our hope and identity rests securely in the hope of heaven - possible only through Jesus in Whom we find life.
My father today would tell us that nothing can separate us from our Father, and it is in His name we live and breathe.
My father would tell us to hang on. Every struggle, disease, hardship, and loss are nothing in comparison to the hope awaits.
My father today would tell us it is all worth it.
See you soon, Dad.
Love, Mary Beth
Mary Quillin is a city-girl-turned-country-girl in her new life in North Dakota. She has been married to her hubby for more than 20 years and has 3 wonderfully different teenagers who are driving and she asks for your prayers.
After many years in full time ministry, Mary is learning how to show up and daily discover the journey of being available for whatever Jesus leads her to. She recently graduated with her Master's in Special Education and is investing in students as a "second half" career. She also spends her days trying to build a welcoming shabby chic farmhouse in the heartland while discovering the joys of vegetable gardens, raising hens, and North Dakota sunsets.