Till We Are Home

Dear Izzy,

Good morning, my darling girl! It’s still a little early here, but I have my coffee and I’m getting ready for the day. I’m off from work today to spend it with the family. We’re not entirely sure what we’ll do, though.

Our first stop will be to come see you, though. Mama and I cleaned up the stone the other day. She made you a new floral spray to drop off. I think we’ll hang around for a little bit, set up the chairs and probably read some of the Flavel book we’ve been reading. Then, after that, I’m not entirely sure. 

When I woke this morning, I thought there’s plenty of time to cry throughout the day…just hold it together for now and get up. The fact that it’s been three years to the day since you went home is a truth I can hardly wrap my mind around. The fact that today’s the day on the calendar that we dread so much. The day that is etched on our hearts and minds, engraved like someone took a chisel to a block of granite. 

The day on the calendar that isn’t for celebrating. 

I guess I’m just a little stunned about it all. I’m not entirely sure if you’ll ever get this letter, if you’ll ever hear these words of mine, but I know your experience of today is likely vastly different than ours. Your best day was our worst. So, I imagine the anniversary of today rings quite different for you than for us. 

But, that’s ok. 

I’m your daddy. All I’ve ever wanted for you was the best for you. When you were little, I tried to provide you with a home that your mama made comfy. I wanted to make sure you had food, clothing, and warmth, even some nice things and toys to play with. I loved telling you stories with your brother and sister. I loved making Blanky fly! I so enjoyed dancing with you and taking you to see Tangled on Ice.

As you grew, I tried to keep doing the same. I miss our car rides to gymnastics, sharing some of my old music to see if you’d like any of it (you didn’t…) or trying to get you to smile or laugh after a hard workout. Sorry about your first driving lesson, but, in my defense, you were about to hit that mailbox. 

Goodness, though…you were gorgeous. I can’t possibly fathom how you are now, all glorified and such, but you took my breath away here. Thankfully, you and your sister have your mama’s genes in that arena. You were so cool in your black Converse and some of the other clothes you wore. Somehow, though, you always were able to stun me each time you walked out of your room.

Sorry, darling, I’m rambling. But your daddy misses you a ton. Today’s one of those days that you are extra heavy on our hearts. We’re always thinking of you…but today…today the world stops a little. It’s been three years, darling. 

Three years since that last hug. 

Three years since I last kissed your forehead.

Three years since you came out of your room in the morning to greet me while I made coffee.

Three years since my spunk and sunshine.

Three years since I heard the word ‘daddy’ come out of your mouth.

Oh, my darling girl! I miss you so much. I just hate this day. Yet, at the same time, you sent us on a wild journey. The Lord, through you, sent us on a wild journey three years ago that brought dizzying depths and profound complexities in our life.  

Would I rather have you here with us? Well, of course! However, I know that is not what was meant to be. The Lord’s plans are good. I don’t have to understand how, but I can trust they are. And I think that’s been the one of the greatest things to come out of these three years…He’s deepened our trust and faith in Him. 

We’ve experienced His nearness in greater ways. He’s given us a greater faith to believe in His goodness when all else around us seems horrific. He’s shined the brightest light of Himself in the deepest darkness we’ve walked through. This journey took us down roads we never would have wanted to turn onto, but the Lord has shown us things we never would have known without it.

I always ask myself, could He have accomplished the same and kept you here? Probably not…He doesn’t afflict from his heart as Jeremiah said, so He wouldn’t walk us through such heartache if it weren’t necessary. So, maybe those questions are better left cast away because I cannot quite comprehend it all. What I do know, though, is the experience we’ve endured. And over the past three years, we’ve experienced His grace and goodness and kindness and love and nearness in ways we’ve never, ever known.

I miss you, Isabel. Oh, I miss even saying your name! For this daddy’s heart, I’m thankful you are doing superbly well. You’re safe. You’re loved. You’re home…I couldn’t wish for anything better for you. 

I still miss you, though. 

But, the One who has you, has me…has your mama…has you brother and your sister. One day, we’ll all be home together. One day, these three years will be nothing but a vapor. Till we are home, my darling, just remember that I love you so very much. I’m so proud of you. I’m so thankful for you. And, I miss you terribly.

Love, 

Daddy