As I made my way to the fellowship hall, feeling like I was drowning in emotions, while my two friends, Valentina and Jamie, followed behind me quietly without saying a word.
"I'm sorry that you guys had to miss the rest of the sermon," I said with a shaky voice.
"And right when it was starting to get really good, too. It's just… I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel so overwhelmed right now."
"It's okay, we're here for you," Valentina said, giving me a reassuring smile.
"Take a deep breath girl," she continued, while Jamie handed me a tissue.
"You don't have to apologize for anything Gabriana. We understand. Take all the time you need. We are here for you."
I wiped my tears away, feeling like I could barely breathe. Then, I opened up about something I hadn't really talked much about in years.
"When I was in Junior High, I had this awful fear of losing my father. I was so scared of it, and it only got worse as his health continued to deteriorate over the next year. I couldn't sleep at night. I'd lie awake in bed, scared that the next day I'd wake up and he wouldn't be there."
"Then, one morning, my mother sat me down to tell me that he had died in a terrible car accident, just like that. He was gone. And I felt like I couldn't breathe. I've never been able to get that moment out of my mind. I wish I could've spent more time with him. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so frustrated. When I see other kids spending time with their fathers, it just… it hurts," I proclaimed as I started to cry.
"I see them everywhere; at church picnics, at the park, at the grocery store. Dads teaching their daughters to ride bikes, helping with homework, cheering at soccer games. And every single time, I feel this ache in my chest that won't go away. It's like watching everyone else get something I can never have again."
"I try to be happy for them, I really do. But then I remember my dad teaching me to ride my bike in our driveway, his hands steady on the handlebars, his voice saying. "I've got you, baby girl." And I want to scream because he's not here anymore to have me. He'll never walk me down the aisle. He'll never meet my children."
"They get their whole lives with their dads, and I only got fourteen years. How is that fair? And I hate that I feel jealous of them. I hate that their happiness reminds me of everything I lost. But I can't help it."
"Every Father's Day, every daddy-daughter dance at church, every time I hear a girl call out "Dad!" It's like losing him all over again."
"But then I forget about it and then I suddenly remember, and it feels like I'm drowning in a river of emotions all over again."
As I rested my head on Jamie's shoulder while trying my best to hold it together. They didn't say anything, just stood there, listening to my painful story as they held me tightly in their arms, their faces full of compassion as I poured out my heart. For a while, none of us spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable; it was the kind of quiet that comes when friends are truly present with each other in pain.
Valentina finally spoke up, her voice gentle. "Gabriana, I can't even imagine what that must have been like. Watching your father's health decline, and then losing him so suddenly…" She reached over and squeezed my hand.
"I'm sorry that you felt that you had to bear this burden alone. We will always be here for you," Valentina said.
"That's right you're not alone," Jamie added softly.
"And it's okay that you don't have all the answers right now. Nobody expects you to," Valentina replied.
I wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself.
"But that's just it. I keep asking God why. Why did he let this happen? Why my dad? And I've never gotten an answer. Sometimes I find myself wondering if He's even listening!"
Valentina leaned forward, her expression thoughtful.
"You know, when my grandmother died last year, I felt the same way. I was so angry with God. I couldn't understand why he would take someone so precious to me, someone that my family depended on."
"What helped you?" I asked, desperate for something, anything to hold onto.
"Honestly? Time. And learning that it's okay to be angry, that God is big enough to handle our questions, our doubts, even our rage. What matters is that we keep talking with Him daily, even when we don't get the answers we want."
Jamie nodded in agreement.
"And sometimes we won't even understand until we're on the other side of heaven. Our pastor Ruben always tells us that God doesn't waste anything. Even our deepest pain can become something He can use for His own honor and glory even if we can't understand how."
"But how do you trust Him when everything feels so broken?" The question came out as almost a whisper.
Valentina thought for a moment. "You don't have to have perfect faith, Gabriana. You just have to take the next step, even if it's a tiny one. Why don't we lead you in a prayer."
They grabbed my hands and said this prayer with me.
Dear lord Jesus,
My heart is broken and I don't understand why You allowed this to happen. I'm angry, I'm confused, and I'm hurting so much. Help me to trust You even when I can't see the purpose. Comfort me in my grief and remind me that my father is with You now. Heal the parts of my heart that feel so empty without him. Give me strength to take the next step, even when I don't understand where I'm going. And help me to believe that You can use even this pain for something good, even when I can't imagine how. In Jesus' name, Amen!
"Try to talk with people who understand what you are going through. Most importantly read the Scriptures daily, even if it doesn't make sense right away. And lean on the congregation. That's what we're all here for," said Valentina.
"The church isn't going anywhere," Jamie added firmly.
"You don't have to go through this alone. We'll walk through it with you, for as long as it takes."
I looked at both of them, feeling a warmth spread through my chest despite the pain.
"Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without the two of you around."
"I know it doesn't make sense right now," Valentina said, her voice steady and sure.
"But God can use this. Even when we don't understand it, we just have to trust in Him. And we will also be here to help you through it."
Valentina's voice softened even more. "You know what helped me? Remembering that death isn't the end. The Bible promises us, "Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him"
(1 Thessalonians 4:13-14). You'll see your dad again, Gabriana in heaven. This separation on Earth is temporary."
I want to share something that helped me," Valentina said, pulling out her phone. "It's a poem about grief and hope. It's called "Till Death do us Apart."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Till Death do us Apart,
*O Death, where is thy grievous sting?
*O Grave, where is thy vaunted victory?
*Thy sorrow lingers, yet what purpose does it serve thee, except to strengthen thee faith in travail's hour?
*In seasons dark and filled with woe, I draw me nigh unto the Lord.
*O Son of God, whose blood was shed, and whose cross did ransom for mortal souls; for sin demanded separation, yet mercy answered with Thy love.
*And God did grant us victory sure through Christ our Lord and Savior dear; for Death itself could not contain Him, nor chains of darkness bind His power.
*Wherefore keep we bitterness within the heart, seeing Love abide within our breast?
*Though our trespass nailed Him to the tree, and every sin did hold Him fast; yet still His love, so vast and tender, doth fill the hollow places of the soul.
*Trust then His mercy, endless sweet, His love, His grace, His pardoning hand; and thou shalt never walk alone, nor dwell in shadows void of peace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When she finished reading the poem I felt comforted by it. When it was finally time for them to leave, I felt different. Not fixed, not healed, but less alone. And maybe that was enough for now.
Saying the words out loud, telling them about Dad, it felt like ripping open a wound I'd been trying to keep closed. But maybe that's what healing requires. Maybe I've been so afraid of the pain that I've never let anyone close enough to help me carry it. Valentina and Jamie didn't try to fix me or tell me everything would be okay. They just... stayed. And somehow, that meant more than any perfect answer ever could.
"Take care Gabriana, you have my number if you decide you need someone to talk with," said Valentina as she clenched onto the gold rose heart locket in her hands as she whispered something into it.
"We love you very much, girl call if you feel like you can't escape a bad situation and we will rush to rescue you," said Jamie.
While I stayed a little bit longer to gather my thoughts and reflect on what had happened during the worship service. As I did, I remembered how much strength and support I could find in being part of a community of believers that cared about me even when I wasn't able to attend classes every week due to my depression.
And remember what Peter said in 1 Peter 5:6-7, "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." He cares about every fear and every question.