The phone call came at 7:00 am on a Thursday morning. Mom had gone to be with my dad, who had fallen ill on the road. We would stay with our aunt and uncle till our parents returned. We were eating breakfast at the kitchen table, heading to school. Routine, everyday occurrence for me, a 7th grader, and my three younger siblings.

My aunt answered the phone, hesitated, and announced with a quivering voice, “Children, your daddy is dead.”

My mind froze for a few seconds before I stood up and walked into the bathroom. My immediate, and perhaps bizarre, response was to clean the bathroom—a frenetic attempt to control a small space in a world that had just spun out of control.

After the initial shock, I felt relief. While this seemed shameful, years later I realized it was an honest and appropriate response. Unbeknownst to my siblings, I knew about my father’s secret struggles: his infidelity, harshness, theft, and addictions. For years, I protected his secrets, which bred a deep disdain that consumed me.

My primary concern immediately shifted to my mother, left with four young children and significant challenges. She couldn’t even drive a car! A friend drove her to my father.

For the next 37 years, I did not mourn the loss of my father. I focused on moving on with my life, rarely thinking of him. My mindset was simply, That was then; this is now.

But at age 49, I had an experience with a therapist that changed everything. He asked a question that gut-punched me. “What would you say to your father if he walked through that door?”

After a long silence, I said, “I wouldn’t say anything to him. I would smack his face!”

With those words, the dam broke. I wailed. I sobbed. I screamed. The floor beside me was covered with tissues. Finally, with my emotional vessel completely empty, I sat in silence, strangely relieved and tranquil. No more anger.

Hours later, I was able to have an intimate “conversation” with my daddy, forgiving him of his sins and asking his forgiveness for my years of pushing him out of my life. I was utterly surprised by the joy of forgiveness. A little girl laughing fully as she enjoyed her daddy’s presence for the first time. I slowly began to see the positive traits he had passed on to me and my siblings.

As a psychologist, I have learned there is no right or wrong way to process tragedy. Ultimately, when we are ready to face it squarely and stay with the process, we can find our way through the darkness. I can tell anyone who suffers a great loss that the light will shine again. You will rise from the ashes, wash your face, and walk on into a newer, brighter day.

Only then will you have the grace to sit in the ashes with others facing their own tragedies. And isn’t laying down our lives for others a large part of why we are here?

Beverly Oxley, a Georgia Licensed Psychologist, has worked with children, adolescents, and families since 1970. Beverly and her husband, Paul, have two daughters, one living on the Pacific coast and the other on the Atlantic. She also has two teenage granddaughters. In her 5-minutes of daily free time, she enjoys the NY Times Wordle, though she has been known to cheat when she gets desperate.

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