A conversation I had with my dad recently was quite enlightening. He seems to have found the light at the end of the tunnel, since the death of my step-mother. He’s not all the way through, mind you, but he’s got a destination and is on track. A welcome and massive improvement from the dead air that sounded like dead soul that our conversations were so abundant in before.

He shared that his biggest struggle was over the question “Why?” I really can’t blame him. Those letters are still rattling around in my head regarding my mother’s suicide. He says he put the following conditions on his grief and on that sticky question.

• Her work was finished.

• He had no regrets.

• And God doesn’t give us trials we aren’t ready to face.

Accordingly, he came through the Why and so is now moving forward with a new life. I said, “Hey, that’s great Dad,” all the while thinking “I’m screwed.” For if that’s the bright shiny path that I need to be walking, you might as well chop two of my legs off.

I don’t believe my mom’s work was done.Certainly, there’s been work done as a result of her death. Oodles and oodles of work on myself, but there are so many more kindergartners who need to learn how to read, so much more rhythm to infuse into my daughter, more tomatoes to grow, more critiquing of me to do, more needing to get better, more spaghetti to be made, more dancing to be had.

And I certainly have quite a few regrets.

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