Dearest Pa and Ma,
Fear looked at me in the eye. It stared me down. I looked away as tears touched my cheeks soaking down my broken heart. You won, I said. It was my greatest fear — the fear of losing both of you. When it came, it shocked me, rocked me to my core, and mocked me at my face.
It made me vulnerable. Unsafe. Perhaps, alone. For many a time I felt like an orphan walking home in the rain on a dark, cloudless day. Only there was no home.
How could this happen to you? How unfair! I know that if it was a choice, you would live much longer to see your family grow — the family that you had invested in, the children you so lovingly raised and the grandchildren that you wished for and adored.
You know why I hurt so much? I see your goodness, your value, and your potential. If only life is based on how well life is lived, you’d live forever. People often spoke to me of your kind hearts but kindness does not guarantee long life. Neither do wealth, health, fame nor happiness — even courage. Death comes sometimes when we least expect it, I know. But still. No one can truly be prepared to die and even if we put in effort to be ready for that moment, nothing can prepare us for the pain, the grief and the devastation that comes from losing a loved one.
How could I forget? There is hope. This is what you taught me. We have faith. This is what you showed me. We have God. This is the greatest gift you’ve given me. That hope and faith in God can carry us through, even when we are at the losing end. It is what I screamed back at Fear when I was in my saddest, grievous moments. I mustered that ounce of courage and gathered up what little strength I could borrow from God’s big strength and made it my own. This is what you’ve prepared me for. All those times we spent on our knees, the times we sang those songs during family worships, the times you sent me away to school and to my mission trips, the times you prayed for me on the phone and the times you made me memorize Psalm 23rd. You prepared me to face Fear.
If you were here right now as I wrote this, I know what you would do, what you would say. You’d gather me in your arms, hold me close, cry with me and pray with me. You would also remind me to trust in Jesus and perhaps sing me this tune, “Jesus, Jesus how I trust Him. How I proved him o’er and o’er…O, for grace to trust Him more.” Your voice I long to hear again.
God has chosen the perfect parents for me. Thank you for every precious and genuine moment you spent with me, guiding me and loving me. Thank you for teaching me to skip in the rain, sit in the puddles, splash around and just soak in the moment knowing that God is still in control. Maybe it’s quite selfish, but I wish you were still here because I miss your presence everyday. Rest well, my loves. See you in that bright resurrection morning.
All my love,
***Pops could have been 67 years old today, instead he is forever young. Happy birthday, Pa!