30 days for dad: I am writing again…for my dad

The next 30 days (“30 days for dad”) will be spent making public the private blessings I have enjoyed as a son, remembering the life and death of my father, Mark Sakanashi, who died six years ago on May 19, 2004. My hope is that his life, imperfect as it was, and he was, will be an encouragement to the church–especially fathers–as an example of what God can do with one man’s life. And, I hope to provide an empathetic presence to those who have also lost parents or loved ones prematurely. This is my attempt not to waste the suffering God has given me–for my good, the good of others, and His ultimate glory.

Before I start talking about lessons I have learned, I want to lay a foundation to the suffering people I hope to comfort and encourage. As a word to those who have not suffered deeply–it’s subjective, but there is a fraternity among those who have endured losses of abnormal magnitude–suffering people never really want to be alone, at least the majority of the time (of course there are moments to just process, but even those times it is nice to be in the silent presence of a trustworthy friend, family member, or lover). But they’d rather be alone than with people who don’t understand suffering. It comes out in the aroma of your interactions; those intent on fighting and correcting, too afraid to let God defend himself, are not helpful. Those who can sit in the pain and weep with the weeping over the brokenness of the world, with the hope of Christ and the renewal of all things in their heart, are the sweetest balm in the midst of irreplaceable loss. There is a time to teach and correct, and a time to let angry words fly off with the wind. Tread softly and handle with care.

So this is me six years ago, broken and afraid, not able to reconcile my theology with reality–yet–uncensored at seventeen, right after my dad was diagnosed with cancer. I will show you my scars, just like Jesus, the Man of Sorrows, who is more acquainted with your unique grief than you could imagine. Don’t wait for answers to why–they’re pointless and a cruel endless chase–He loves you, that is the only why you need for now, and ever, and He is extending His scarred arms to you at this very moment. Go to Him.

Sunday, November 30, 2003

i guess it’s been a while.
a lot has happened in between now and the last time i wrote.
Dad has cancer
What am i supposed to do with that?
i don’t cry. not yet. i’m not sure how i’m supposed to act
some people cry and are scared, i’m not sure if i am supposed to be that way too.
i’m not sure how i am allowed to act.
i know i have to step it up and be strong as a man.
my family needs me
i’m not sure if i’m allowed to show fear
if i can cry in front of them.
this came out of nowhere.
i’m just kind of stunned ya kno…
there’s nothing i can do to change my dad’s situation w/ cancer. that’s up to God now.
i don’t understand this, but i guess i’m not supposed to. not yet.
i’m not even sure how to tell some of my friends.
i don’t want to be an object of pity by letting people know
but sometimes i do wish people knew so they could be there for me more than usual.
i’m not sure about all this.
I just gotta give it to God.
if worst comes to worst my Dad will be in a better place.
i’ll just miss him.
i hope it’s not that though, there’s unfinished business in my eyes
my dad has to see me get married and cry in the ceremony like he did for my brother’s
i have to see the look on his face the first time he holds my child. glowing…
i hope, i hope.