Until Death Do Us Part

My Dad died since we spoke last. It’s been two weeks, two days, and nine hours since I received the call. I’ve spent a lot of time pondering my Dad’s life and what it meant. It’s funny how you don’t think about those things in everyday life. Well, until death do us part. It’s a victorious story, and particularly relevant with Valentine’s Day upon us.

I’ve written about the moment when I met my husband’s parents at age eighteen. I’ve explained how it marked me forever because it showed me what a healthy marriage looked like for the very first time, and it set me on a path toward achieving one myself. I’ll share the link at the bottom of this article; it’s also relevant for Valentine’s Day because sometimes you need to see the goal to properly aim for it.

Not Everyone’s Story is Ideal.

Some of us are not in a relationship that anyone would consider healthy. Maybe you never have been. This story is about my parents, and it’s for you. There is hope for you. I promise.

When I was younger, my Dad had a severe problem with drinking; it took a toll on everyone who loved him. It was an odd life for me. There was Weekday Dad, who never missed a day at work, was infinitely kind to others, went to all of my brother’s baseball games and band concerts, and instigated raucous tickle fests with me.

Then there was Weekend Dad, who didn’t know when enough was enough. I felt like a tennis match spectator, head continually moving left to the right, then right to the left, trying to keep up with these two men. One minute he’d shower me in love, like when he placed my new Dachshund puppy in my arms just because “her hair is red just like yours.” Then, I’d turn my head, and the moments weren’t so heart warming. I lived an anxious childhood; one of my many fears was that my parents would get divorced. Who could blame my Mom? Their marriage was sick and getting sicker every year. Until death do us part? That was always up for debate.

The First Move

I’ve read that people change in two ways – through self-awareness and continual, measured change or a sudden life-changing event. When I was twenty-four, the second happened to my Dad. He asked us for forgiveness, distanced himself from every bad influence, and never looked back—cold turkey.

It was easier for me to forgive my Dad. I could see who he truly was through everything, and I always knew he loved me. I loved him madly. And, my Mom selflessly shielded us from things as much as she could.

But the marriage, sputtering on life support, required more than sincere words and almost-too-late actions. A lot more – from my Mom. How do you stick with a person who has caused that much pain over that many years? Do you really want to put your heart out there again? Is it possible to feel love – true romantic love – for them?

Yes. Yes, it is. Until death do us part.

Grace Was Not Earned. But It Was Offered.

I learned what a happy marriage looked like – pink with health and beating strong – from my husband’s parents. But from mine, I discovered how forgiveness – slow, stuttering, and reluctant sometimes as it was – could resuscitate a bruised and scarred relationship into the most imperfectly perfect marriage you can imagine.

Over the years, I watched the relationship slowly and steadily breathe life again. Hmmm, “again” is not the right word because it had never been what it became. I began to see the evidence – friendship, private jokes, and fierce loyalty. Dad was sick in the later years, and Mom was his devoted caregiver. And even through that, they weren’t just getting by; they were thriving in their relationship. Dedicated to one another. Holding hands on the couch. Hip to hip. Making jokes. When Dad passed away, he and Mom had been married 62 years. A lot of those years were fantastic!

I think we can learn a lot from my Mom and Dad. I have. First, let me be really clear. If there’s abuse in your family, this message is not for you. Please get yourself and your children to safety, and worry about the rest later. If you’ve been divorced, this is not Bash You Day. I don’t know what you’ve been through. And I understand that there’s nothing black and white about it.

But, I think my family’s situation, in many ways, mirrors a lot of people’s. I don’t necessarily mean the specifics. But are you willing to entertain the thought that, in your particular situation,  sticking and working through it could mean a better final outcome for you and your children? I know this opinion is not popular. And it’s a tough one to swallow, so your friends won’t tell you this because they can’t look you in the eye and say this when you’re hurting. I don’t blame them, so I’ll do it just between us. You decide if it applies to you or not. Only you know.

My Unpopular Opinion

Popular opinion says that kids would rather you divorce than fight all of the time. It’s OK to move on; you shouldn’t feel guilty because you deserve to be happy. It’ll be OK. The kids will be fine. Even better, in fact.

We tell ourselves lies when we want something to be true. And even though it is a lie we’ve made up ourselves, somehow, we humans find a way to believe that lie. I know this because I’m not innocent of this. You know it, too. Just because a lie is said by nearly everyone over and over doesn’t change the fact that it’s a lie.

You indeed deserve to be happy. And it’s excruciating to kids when our parents fight all of the time. Of course, it is.

Instead, kids in this situation want to see their heroes be actual heroes. If at all possible, we want you to figure it out. Do whatever it takes. Teach us how to pick ourselves up out of the messes we make. Stop doing what we’re doing and apologize. And when we don’t make the mess? Teach us how to forgive the one who has so that grace can reign. We want you to teach us how to love each other until death do us part.

At Dad’s funeral, my husband read a eulogy he’d written about my Dad. And after that, we had a time of Informal Tributes, where anyone could share a memory. I know that people focus on the good at funerals. But, I heard stories about kindness. About love. About true Godliness. Things like “Thank you for teaching me how to love,” “knowing [him] changed my life” and “like all of us Dad had his struggles, but he was more than a conqueror.” These words were an accurate depiction; I know this because I was his daughter. I saw it all from the good seats.

My Dad’s mistakes didn’t define him. It was just a blip. Through Christ, he overcame. And, grace from God and his family honored him as a flawed but loved being. It allowed him to stick it out, make it right and be who God made him to be. Until death do us part, then into the next life.

How about you?

Are you struggling with addiction – perhaps alcohol, drugs, or porn? Or another kind of weakness that’s killing your relationship? Things like pride or anger are just as deadly. Get the help you need and stopppp. No more excuses.

Or, are you like my Mom – sick with worry, tired of yet another excuse, and you just want it to be over? The first move is theirs, but if given a chance, I urge you to try – just try – what she did. Give yourself and your family this opportunity to see how beautiful forgiveness looks.

Until death do us part.

Here’s the story about the other mentors in my life that I mentioned: Long Line of Love 

Note: Mom gave her permission to share this story; she understands my mission, and how transparency  is necessary to help others. Dad? I didn’t get a chance to ask, but he was grateful for what he was given. And, he’d be happy for you to have it or grant it to someone else.

Even after Mom’s permission, I struggled with this level of transparency because it isn’t entirely my story to tell. At the height of my struggle, this song “coincidentally” appeared. If you’re so inclined, listen and you’ll see why I clicked “Publish.”

“Truth Be Told”

“May mercy and peace and love be multiplied to you.” Jude 1:2