Dad

On February 3, Oswald Garcia passed away. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s more than six years ago. He died after contracting Covid-19 nearly a week beforehand.

He was known as Ozzie to friends and acquaintances alike, Dad to me. I have spent the past few days recalling memories of him: breakfasts at IHOP, the Christmas he bought me my first motorcycle, a Yamaha Y-Zinger, the hours he spent in a cold rink watching me skate, and the funny faces he would make to help me enjoy performing in the choir at school. Dad taught me to ride dirt bikes in the desert (though other things about the desert were not enjoyable, like the lack of amenities). Dad was a great swimmer and an even better dancer. He was a wonderful storyteller, though some stories he attempted to pass off as truth. (Did you know that he was part of both the CIA and the FBI and formerly worked for the UN?) He was handsome, with a crooked smile and big, brown eyes and loved to croon away with love songs, particularly Elvis. He was a mechanic by trade (cars, planes, motorcycles) and a model train enthusiast. Dad taught me how to drive a car . . . by directing me from the safety of the parking lot where I was learning straight onto the highway. (It was like being thrown into the deep end to learn how to swim.) He took me to the church where I gave my life to Christ.

Other memories have also been surfacing—difficult memories, things I have forgiven . . . whether he asked for forgiveness or not. 

Dad is not alone in this. We all sin (Romans 3:23). We all hurt those we love, intentionally and unintentionally. But God, I already extended forgiveness and grace years ago, regardless of whether he asked. So why is the hurt coming back up? I believe the truth is . . . forgiveness is not always a one-and-done event. More often, for deep wounds, forgiveness is a continual surrender to God. As relationships change and grow (including through death), the pain may need to be revisited and tended to. Will ignoring the pain make it go away? Will denying difficult memories help me to better honor Dad? This is what I have been wrestling with God about the past few days. My constant prayer has been, “Keep me in Your hand.”

God answered that prayer. Coming out of the fog of initial grief one morning, I believe God led me to how to process my feelings. When difficult memories surface, I name the pain and hurt for what it is. “I felt … [abandoned/rejected/unworthy of love/etc.] when that happened.” Just as a physical wound cannot be treated without first accessing the damage, so an emotional wound needs to be examined to know the full extent of the damage. I must acknowledge how God has forgiven me of my own sin (time and time again . . . ad nauseam) and extend that forgiveness to others—Dad, in this case—as I surrender my pain to God. I am a visual person, so I picture taking that pain to the foot of the cross and laying it down. Then, I thank Him for taking it. I treasure each sweet memory, but I take the time to feel the pain of each difficult memory and then lay it at the feet of Jesus. I am so thankful for the healing that only comes from Him.

I don’t share any of this because I want to. If it were up to me, I would continue to grieve and process with God in the privacy of my head and heart. But if this can help just one person, it’s worth laying myself bare.

I will miss you, Dad.