A FATHER'S PERFECT LOVE

By Jenny Baxter

I have a vivid memory of a car trip one warm November day back when I was 15. We were on our way to stay the night at our older sister's place not far away. She, with her husband and little baby, had recently moved nearby. Dad drove, I sat in the front of the car, with my younger-by-15-months sister Laurelle, in the back. His words came completely out of nowhere.

“You realize girls that Mum is going to die soon don't you?”

We both nodded, numbly, not quite sure what to say . . . death was in everyone's thoughts even if never verbalized. He talked on about the Doctors not being sure if she would last until Christmas, but we were still all praying she would get better. My mind struggled to take it all in.

Mum had first been diagnosed with a malignant tumor when I was eight years old. But when it happened I was quite unaware of ‘the big bad world of cancer'. Her subsequent radical mastectomy was spoken of in hushed tones and Laurelle and I were simply told ‘Mum had an operation on her arm'. This was true to some extent, as there was a big gap in her armpit where lymph nodes had been. The C-word, though, was rarely mentioned.

By the time we reached that fateful November day much of my innocence about these things had been lost, even though as always, Mum and Dad protected us as best they could from anything to do with death. Death simply was not talked about in our family. Dad's horrific experiences during the war years put paid to that – the consequences of undiagnosed post-traumatic stress syndrome forever plagued him. As a nurse in an RAAF Squadron in the Middle East during WWII, he had personally suffered untold horror.

His experiences had innumerable effects on us girls, his precious offspring. As we grew up, funerals were conscientiously avoided. Dead birds and mice found in the garden were to be steered clear of and somehow vanished. Even our dead pets just disappeared. When Mum was found to have breast cancer, explanations were never forthcoming – though many of our waking hours revolved around her various trips for treatment. Not only did she journey regularly interstate to see a specialist, she even went to Mexico for a six-week stint of futuristic oncology therapy, too new for Australia .

Avoiding talk of death was so much part of us that Dad's announcement in the car was greatly out of character. No doubt he was trying to forewarn us of the coming storm, but instead he created even more turmoil beneath our calm exteriors. He never again mentioned Mum's illness to us in such a purposeful way. He must have hoped and prayed we had all we needed to prepare us for the next few months, when Mum finally died in February.

It was my first funeral.

Being a parent who loves

As a consequence of his experiences, my loving father had a strong value to protect us from death at all costs. Ironically this meant that when death found its place in our home, we were terribly underprepared to deal with it. Instead of protecting us from death, we ended up being exposed to it in all its harshness with no framework in place to manage it.

As a consequence of my experiences I have claimed a very different value as I have loved my five precious offspring. I talk about death—often. We gaze at dead birds on the beach. We chat about their Grandma dying the week I turned 16. We attend funerals, even when my children were tiny, just as we visit brand new babies. We discuss life and its natural end, death. We talk about heaven and what that must be like. When my father finally died in 2008, I allowed my children to see my grief and talked to them through my tears.

Every parent will approach the way they teach their kids about life differently. No parent is perfect.

Do I blame my father for what I have suffered? How can I? His actions were the result of terrible things beyond his control.

In the end I have chosen to trust God – that He is the one who knows what He is doing, even though I myself cannot possibly understand.

He after all is the author of life and death. He is the ultimate Father, capable of perfect love.

Jenny Baxter lives in Tasmania , Australia (the little heart-shaped island just beneath the big island). She is the editor of Christian Woman magazine and you can hear her on www.ultra106five.com from 6-9am Sundays (Australian Eastern Summer Time: GMT +11).

She is married to Stephen and they have five children.

http://jenny-happyday.blogspot.com

www.twitter.com/JennyBax