This is the story of a woman who lost her father at age 10 and has received major healing from the Lord in the past two years. My dad died in 1999 so 21 years ago this month. The Lord gave me major healing last year, 2019, 20 years later. Coincidence? I think not.
If you had asked me about my Indian father’s death before this past year, I would’ve willingly explained to you the tragic circumstances whereby he died suddenly of a heart attack one January winter’s day many years ago, to the shock of my sister, my mom, and me. I would not have gotten emotional or felt any sadness. I would’ve explained it matter-of-factly as if it happened to someone else and I would’ve brushed away any pity or apologies you gave me, as I surely didn’t need them. I had moved on. It had been 20 years, for goodness sake. I didn’t think about my dad or miss him and I didn’t have many memories of him anymore. I had a new father now, my stepdad, and we were close so I had no void in my heart from the absence of a father figure. I was healed. Or so I thought.
What I didn’t realize was that I had closed off a large part of my heart the day my dad died and shut down my personality and my identity at the core of who I am had been buried under hurt, lies from the Enemy, and unprocessed pain/ emotions. The Lord has revealed to me that my father’s death and its effect on me shifted everything. I’m realizing now how much pain I suppressed in an effort just to survive and keep going when my world was falling apart.
You see, I learned real quick that just because your world is crumbling around you doesn’t mean the world stops turning or you get a free pass to sit it out as you process your grief. No, there was no option to wallow in my sadness and pain. I had to get back in the game and I figured I might as well get on with it and not waste any time, because I’d just be delaying the inevitable. I still had to go to school and make good grades and function as a human. None of my responsibilities lessened just because my dad died. In fact, you could say, they became greater.
My father died on a Friday and his funeral was on the following Monday, Martin Luther King Day, also the day before my 11th birthday. My best friend’s scavenger hunt birthday party was scheduled for the same day as the funeral. I, naturally, wanted to go to the party but was told that I could not miss my father’s funeral, which I understood. However, I was still a child, so of course, I would’ve preferred to go to the party and escape the misery and pain of attending my own father’s funeral. But, alas, I had to do the right thing. And, that made all the difference.
The Lord told me that the day I had to choose between going to a birthday party (being a child) and attending the funeral (doing the hard thing), I “put aside childish ways.” I subconsciously decided that from now on, I had to be an adult essentially. I could no longer dilly and dally as a child does. Instead, I had to be strong for my mother and my sister who needed me. I had to be responsible and do the right thing always, which included: stuffing my emotions so that I could function at my maximum potential, excelling in school, and being the rock for my family.
Did I ever consciously make a decision to do this? Not that I recall. I think I just decided in my own 10-year-old mind with the understanding I had at the time that this was what needed to be done and I would do it. No matter the grief or pain. I had to keep going. I had to be good. Good girls support their family and do well in school and don’t complain or wallow in their emotions. They don’t let tragedy bring them down and they endure until the end.
Kinda ironic that my favorite song back then was “Big Girls Don’t Cry” from Dirty Dancing. I think I related on a deep level to that song, whether I realized it consciously or not.
So, I became the best little girl I could be. And, y’all, I was pretty damn good. But, at the expense of not processing my pain or healing from it. And at the expense of burying my true personality and spirit to become who I thought my family needed.
On the World Race (shoutout to Seth Barnes) in 2018, I did inner healing with the Lord and he brought up a memory that I had suppressed for 19 years of me at my dad’s funeral. 19 years, y’all. I had forgotten this even happened. Talk about traumatic.
So, the memory was: I was rubbing pastes and spices on my dead father’s body for a ritual ceremony they do in Hindu culture before the body is cremated. I honestly don’t know the significance of this ceremony, just that the oldest son is supposed to do it. Well, there were no sons and I was the oldest, so guess who gets to do the procedure? Right, yours truly.
So, my world race friend asked me where God was in this moment. At first, I thought, “I don’t know? What kind of God allows a 10-year-old child to annoint her dead father’s body with spices??” Then, Holy Spirit showed me that Abba Father was behind me, steadying my hands, so that I could perform the ritual and thereby honor my father. I was blown away. I always felt that God had abandoned me in that moment and in that circumstance of my father’s tragic death. But, here He was, patiently showing me, 19 years later, when I was capable of handling it and ready to, that He was there all along, giving me strength when I might’ve collapsed from the strain of it all if not for Him. What a Good Good Father. Faithful in every circumstance. My earthly father may have abandoned me (not by choice of course) but my Heavenly Father NEVER did.
So, the day after my father’s funeral, my mom gave me the option to skip school. I decided to go to school and it was my eleventh birthday. I think my logic was that I would have to go to school eventually so I might as well go now and that at least something would be happy since it was my birthday. I figured I could go to school and have people wish me happy birthday or I could sit at home and be sad. The fifth grade moms got together and bought cookie cake for the entire fifth grade in honor of my birthday so around 100 fifth graders came up to me and wished me “Happy Birthday” and said “Thank you Raina” even though I hadn’t done anything to procure the cake. I felt special and so loved and it was my silver lining in a dark time in my life. I don’t remember much after that. I just know I went to school everyday and got good grades. I showed up everyday and lived in survival mode and stuffed down my pain. I convinced myself I was fine until I was fine. Well, kind of.
Stay tuned for my next blog to see how my Dad’s death affected my personality and how I expressed myself and sowed seeds of rejection that still affect me now.
Love y’all!
Thanks for reading! The LORD IS GOOD.
“For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.”
Psalm 100:5
