Life. The birth of a child. One of the most memorable moments of a parent's life.

June 1st 1990 was the day my journey on this earth began. A journey that began shaping me from day one. A journey filled with vast amounts of love...and also tremendous heartaches and losses. Even thinking back to my earliest memories of my parents' apartment together, I had no idea what would lie in store for me. The bumpy roads. And the amazing Grace of a faithful God.

I came into this world through unique circumstances. I would like to believe that God had a specific plan for my life from the beginning. Choosing me to be born at this specific time. And choosing Kevin and Maria specifically to be my parents.

​Growing up having no real memories of my biological parents together made me never really miss them being together. Traveling back and forth between homes every other weekend was my normal. I was never even sad about my circumstances because that was all I knew.

The one constant though was this underlying tension of feeling the tension between my parents. I carried it with me for a majority of my life. A weight that I never knew was there until it was gone.

I loved my dad very much. I can't say that enough. Probably more than he knew. But it was because of that love that I began to grow distant from him as I got older.

It's hard to say when it really started, but growing up with an alcoholic parent took its toll on me. And honestly, it was not even until church yesterday (months after my dad's passing) that I finally accepted that alcoholism is a sickness and that my dad was sick the whole time I knew him. First emotionally and mentally. And then of course physically when he was diagnosed with cancer.

But again, growing up, I never knew how to put words to my emotions. I hated seeing my dad in pain all the time and knowing there was nothing I could do to help him.

To be honest, the happiest I remember seeing him was when he was at work as a nurse in CCU (and then later working in bed operations). He loved his job. He loved his coworkers. He was a leader and was very proud of his work. It was a relief to see him there. And looking back, what a blessing it was that my dad got me a job at Troy Beaumont so I could spend so much quality time with him in his environment. I always knew visiting my dad at work was special, but didn't realize how much until recently. That was how I spent about half my time with him since I graduated from high school in 2008.

October 2013. The beginning of my journey with my therapist, Renee.

My mentor, Leslie (who has been such a HUGE blessing in my life) recommended that I start seeing someone professionally after some extreme anxiety and panic attacks. Renee was her friend who was also in a Bible study with her, so I trusted that it would be a good fit.

What I thought would be a quick couple sessions turned into a weekly journey that lasted almost 2 years. I knew I needed help, but I didn't realize until months in that my anxiety stemmed from the abandonment I felt from my dad.

Let me clarify, my dad NEVER abandoned me. In fact, he always made sure to be a part of my life through everything. The abandonment I felt was emotional.

So I began working through my "abandonment" issues...the aftermath of having an unpredictable and emotionally unhealthy parent. He did the best he could. Of this I am certain. But he never received the help that he needed to experience real healing on this side of heaven. And because he never really faced his own issues, he remained to be emotionally distant and sarcastic most of the time.

I don't remember a specific timeline of when I began to work through different things in therapy. But I do remember one of the first things Renee encouraged me to do was to let myself feel the pain of not having a "normal" relationship with my dad. She told me that I would never be able to let go of the disappointment and pain if I did not first let myself experience it.

Sometime in high school I grew pretty numb to my dad after a series of bad experiences. Again, a new "normal". So to feel any emotion at all was painful. But I did.

​I remember pulling off into a 7-Eleven parking lot one day in tears thinking about all the things that had happened between my dad and I...all the things I wanted in a healthy relationship with my dad, but probably would never experience. For the first time, I began grieving the loss of what I didn't have and accepting and grieving the fact that I would never have a normal and healthy relationship with my dad unless he got help.

I also learned to accept the fact that it was not up to me to help my dad. I could pray for him and spend time with him. But it was not my job to be his confidant and therapist.

Then, after a year and a half of therapy, my parents finally made amends to each other.

And what transpired from that was the one day, at age 24, that I finally, for the first time, grieved the loss of my parents' marriage to each other. I stared at this photo of my parents holding me as a baby wondering what it would have been like had they stayed together. Their marriage was brief. I know deep down they both wanted the best for me, despite their differences.

And shortly after that was when I finally realized that despite the ways my dad had hurt me, that he really did love me the best he could. He was a hurting man who never got real help for his issues. But he loved me deeply despite of them. I will never get the image out of my head of looking at my dad across the diner table over breakfast and understanding the reality of the situation. I had worked through the hurt enough that I was beginning to forgive. All the pain I had allowed myself to feel through therapy was finally leaving my heart (because I had finally allowed myself to experience it instead of suppressing it). You need to feel things in order to let them go sometimes. And in feeling and letting go, I was creating a space to learn how to love my dad more freely again, without the fear of being hurt.

And then months later, I finally felt ready to share with my dad the ways I felt hurt by him growing up. I was always so scared to be open about such things for fear of creating a bigger space between us. But I knew in that moment that in order for that space to heal, I needed to be open and vulnerable with him. And so I was.

We cried together, sitting side by side on the front porch of his house. He kept saying over and over that he didn't want to go to the grave thinking that I thought he was a bad person. I kept telling him I didn't think that. I told him that I worked through a lot with Renee in therapy and that I wasn't upset anymore and that I had learned to let go of a lot. ​I'm not sure he believed me, but that is what I felt.

Then he was diagnosed with cancer 2 months later.

November 8th, 2016 was our last day together. A day I replay in my head several times a day...the way he looked as I wiped blood off his mouth as his body was shutting down. The way his hand felt as I held it tightly. The way I cried on his shoulder as he took his last breath...telling him over and over that I forgave him.

The rest of the week following that night I spent planning the entire visitation and funeral. I picked out a coffin I thought my dad would like, a floral spread at the funeral home to match his love for America, and went to the cemetery to design a tombstone personalized with an American flag on it. I then coordinated the funeral service and put thought into each specific song that was to be played. I put my heart and soul into planning everything the way I felt would bring my dad the most honor. A testament to the healing God brought into my life. I wanted my life that week to be a reflection of all God had done for me. I still do.

We don't get to choose our number of days on this earth or the amount of time we get to spend with the people we love. But we are called to love. And one way of loving is to forgive. And sometimes we need to reach out for help in order to help our hearts heal and learn how to forgive.

One thing I want to stress is to not wait to seek healing. And to not wait to experience real love, joy, and intimacy in this life.

I continue to believe that God had a specific plan for everything. And I thank God everyday for bringing Leslie and Renee into my life to send me on a path towards healing at just the right time. God knew. And God made a way.

26 years, 5 months, and 1 week.

That was all the time I got with my dad on this earth. And in the space between the day I came into this world and the day my dad left it, God extended an infinite amount of grace over my life and heart.

Don't wait.

I found this bracelet in my bathroom drawer this week while I was cleaning. Slightly covered with some dust and makeup. I haven't look at it in I can't remember how long...I received it sometime after my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Purple is the color for pancreatic cancer awareness. I guess that's the point of these bracelets...to spread awareness and to keep people who need prayers on your heart. To me though, it represented mortality.

I wore it to contribute to a cause. But in my mind it was a constant reminder and symbol that my dad was dying. I carried that thought with me all day, everyday. I spent 13 months trying to mentally prepare for the inevitable. It's amazing how your mind can't comprehend the thought of someone close to you dying. It's too big a thought to even process. You can't even fathom how you will get through it. But when it happens, you just do. 

It's amazing how your mind goes into a combination of shock and survival mode during times of tragedy... 

I remember sitting down with the funeral director and my uncles, 12 or 13 hours after my dad's passing. The whole time, my mind was like, "Is this really happening right now?"

I remember so many months ago my dad talking to me about funeral arrangements when I would visit him at work. I hated when he talked about that stuff. To me, it felt like he was giving up. But, he was being realistic, and I knew that too. Even when I was sitting at his bedside at the hospital, I kept looking at him, thinking about how he was alive right in front of me...and how it wouldn't be much longer until I would be at his funeral...but again, you can't even wrap your head around it.

And here I was, sitting with my uncles, planning the funeral and visitation for my dad. Something he never asked of me when he was alive, but something I knew I had to do for him. It was my last way of giving back to him and commemorating his life. Or so I thought...

I also remember spelling my dad's name as the funeral director wrote it on his death certificate. That took me back to all the paperwork I filled out growing up that would ask me for my parents' names. Kevin Shalawylo. My dad.

As we got further down the death certificate, I looked to my uncles to try and remember the time of death. That whole night was blur. I guess those 3 days my dad was admitted to the hospital were a blur. 

10:40pm.

The time my dad's body gave out. The time he took his last breath. The time my whole world changed as I knew it.

I cried. I kept waiting for him to breathe another breath, but also dreaded it since he was in so much pain..gasping for air. And then, he was gone.

I cried on his shoulder, feeling his warmth for the last time. Knowing it was the last time I would ever hug my dad. Ever again. I knew I would miss him deeply... miss those random texts saying hi or telling me to not be out driving on nights when roads were bad... texts asking me to bring him dinner to work. That text or phone call at 10:08pm on my birthday; my birth minute.

It had been a process, but I had also been preparing myself to let go of my dad. Which was so painfully difficult since I only began to really hold him close and have real hope for our relationship just a few months before his cancer diagnosis.

I was so confused. I couldn't understand why God would allow such a thing to happen to my dad at such a time when I thought things were starting to look up for him...for us. It just didn't seem fair, and to be honest, it still doesn't seem fair. It brings me to tears at the most random of moments thinking about how much my dad suffered in this life.

Even though I was angry and deeply hurt over the situation, I never felt angry with God. I knew in my heart that God doesn't cause cancer and pain. How could a God who loves us so much that He sent His Son to bring us eternal life cause death? The truth, is that God doesn't cause death. We caused death by not listening to Him in the garden at the beginning of time. We fell short. And God created us to have free will knowing that we would fall short.

And God also didn't send His son to earth to die. To quote my pastor, "When God came, we put Him on the cross. We killed Him." But what did God do? He sent His beloved Son to us, knowing that we would kill him at just 33 years of life, and in turn used that very moment of death to complete the greatest Love story of all time.  

I also don't believe that God causes us to go through these trials for the sake of testing us. But rather to teach us how to learn how to cling to truth, even in the midst of seep sorrow. Can we still see the Light, even while we feel stranded in some of the darkest of places? And the answer to that is yes. That Light never leaves us. It is always there, waiting for us to move towards it. 

In my dad's final moments, although the most unbearable of my entire life, I still felt wrapped in Love, and I knew my dad was finally in Good Hands. And maybe he always was and just never knew it. 

Even though it didn't feel fair that my dad was diagnosed with cancer at a time when things started looking up for us, I am clinging to the truth that God planned for this very time, each of my dad's breaths had been measured out. And within that space of time measured out by breaths, God brought that healing with my dad; it was God's gift to me. I was able to let go of my dad with total peace, knowing how much he loved me. And trusting that he knew how much I loved him. 

I remember sitting in my dad's room with him the day he passed away. He kept pulling his oxygen off. He wasn't listening to anybody. But finally, I gently yelled at him and said, "Dad, leave your oxygen on!" He looked at me and nodded. He listened. And I'd like to think that gave me a few more hours with him, anyway.

I don't know what lies ahead. But I am still trusting that God is Good. I would like to believe that my dad knew how much I loved him and that my dad found peace with God and within himself his last few days here. 

Even though some days are still difficult for me as I grieve, I still have hope in the promise that this life is not the end. And maybe, when it is my time, and I get to the other side, my dad and I can pick up right where we left off. He will still be annoyed that my hair always looks crazy, and we will finally be in total peace...no pain, no fear, no sorrow.

​I would like to think that somehow these trials here really are preparing us for what is to come. To be in complete and reverent awe of the beauty of eternal life with the total understanding of why it was so important to trust Him on our way there. May we all continue to step Heavenward together.

He was. He is. And He is to come.

Although this movie didn't get the best reviews... it completely and utterly touched my soul. I left the theater in tears on a winter night in 2014. It was like a version of my life was set on the big screen, and I unexpectedly watched it without knowing or preparing for it. Although filled with a mixture of emotions, including pain, the thing I appreciated the most about this film is that through the pain, you are hopeful of the healing that would eventually take place...the healing you longed for the main character to experience with her dad. The healing that eventually came. 

Redemption.

That is the word that comes to mind when I think of Saving Mr. Banks. It is also the word that comes to mind when I think of my dad and my relationship with him. A friend once told me years and years ago as I was struggling through some things, "you will be the one to redeem your father." This thought was never far from my mind when I thought of my dad. Which was often. Redeem him? What did this mean exactly? Spiritually? Literally? How was I supposed to do that? I pondered this for years...literally. 

Then a whirlwind of things happened when my dad got sick. Everything happened so quickly, and yet so slowly. Quickly in a sense that I knew the clock was ticking and things felt so unpredictable. Slowly in a sense that it seemed like my dad's suffering was only getting worse and worse. Because it was. And it was so unbearably difficult to witness. It was heartbreaking.

I knew my time with my dad was precious, even though it was so difficult at times. Not because of any tension he and I had. There wasn't any since we had our handful of deep conversations over the years. But it was so hard seeing my dad in so much pain, so thin, starving...and knowing there was nothing that I could do about it. Only listen, watch, and pray.

I prayed about him a lot. I prayed about what to do and how I was supposed to reach him. I prayed for him--that he would have some relief in his symptoms and peace. I prayed that his heart would draw near to God in the process, amidst the suffering. The Bible tells us that God is present in our sufferings and close to the brokenhearted, so I wanted my dad to believe it. 

My dad wasn't always the easiest person to reach out to either...and anyone who knows him knows how stubborn and specific he was. Ha. Even in the hospital during his last days here he was giving us all a run for our money. So I did pray that I would figure something out and that my heart would be open in God's timing.

And it was. 

I joined a small group/women's Bible study in June 2016 of last year. I told the girls right away about my dad, how sick he was, and how complicated our relationship was. We prayed for him every week together. As time went on, I began asking for prayers specifically about having the courage to invite him to church with me. You're probably thinking, "Church? Big deal...it shouldn't be that difficult to invite someone to church." But I was so afraid of my dad saying no, that it made me afraid to even ask.

Until one day during the Bible study, I worked up the courage and texted my dad. I invited him, and he was surpringly ok with it. I was so excited.

I reached out to my pastor, Father Kenneth, several times throughout the summer as well. Asking for prayers. Asking that God would direct the situation. Father Kenneth was always so supportive. I couldn't wait for my dad to meet him.

Then the day finally came for my dad to meet me for church. Conicidentally enough, he came to church straight from having a CT scan done. The CT scan that would tell us a few days later that his cancer was starting to grow again.

I was so nervous that Sunday. I hadn't been to church with my dad in years. In fact, he hadn't been to church in years. I am not sure how long it had been for him, but I do know that it was his first time attending a service since his cancer diagnosis. 

And to be honest, I couldn't even tell you what the service was about. Only that it was important for me to bring my dad to church. That's all I could think about in that hour and a half...that I did it. That I had the courage to invite him. And that he came.

I was asked to lead the prayers at the front of the church that day. And shortly after, my dad took communion for the last time.

Little did I know that in 2 short months this would be the very church that I would organize his funeral at, with Father Kenneth leading his service. The place where my family and I would see my dad's body and touch his hand for the last time. 

So did I redeem my dad in this life? The short answer is no. Only God can do that. But like the main character in Saving Mr. Banks who wanted to redeem her dad through the story of Mary Poppins, I am going to do through this blog. That is my plan...to continue to share of God's faithfulness. To share of His goodness in my life throughout time, despite many trials. And to share of His sweet redemption of my relationship with my father on this side of heaven.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."
Ecclesiastes 3:11

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As the new year is officially upon us, I find myself reflecting on God's timing. There was a certain timeline underway (going back years) that I could not see happening at the time, but when my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer in September 2015, it all made sense. God was in control, and He made Himself known over and over.

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I spent many years on and off in therapy throughout my life--starting in high school after a falling out with my dad. I didn't always know why I felt led to go, but I knew it would ultimately be healing to me. 6 months in high school, 2 years in college, and 2 years post college (fall 2013-summer 2015). The last 2 years of therapy were definitely the most significant to the healing in my relationship with my dad. It was a lot of hard work, a lot of emotions, a lot of grieving, and a lot of learning to accept reality. I will write a post more about this at a later time.

Also during the last 2 years I was in therapy, in the summer of 2014, my dad received a new full-time position at Beaumont working in bed operations. He was ready for a change after 15 years as a nurse in CCU (Critical Care Unit). His new job was a desk job, so I was able to visit him often, or as often as my schedule would allow. I would bring him dinner or just hang out and check emails or do work on the computer next to his.

And then, in February of 2015, one of the most significant things to happen in my life...happened. After over 20 years of challenges for various reasons between my dad and mom, they finally apologized and forgave each other, both agreeing that I was the best thing they did and how proud they were of me. Reading my parents' texts back and forth brought tears to my eyes. I can't describe what it is like to carry the weight of knowing things were never quite right with your parents....2 people that you loved most in the world. It weighed on me more than I even understood until the weight was gone. My mom decided during a bible study on "Life's Healing Choices" that it was time. My parents had finally made amends. Such a beautiful thing. One of the most special gifts that my mom has ever given me (and there have been many).

Because I was so moved at this, I reached out to my dad just to tell him that I loved him. Since I didn't do that too often, he asked me why I would say that out of the blue. I told him about the conversation that I had with my mom and how special it was. I felt my heart beginning to really open to him for the first time in a while.

This was the first of many turning points in my relationship with my dad. And because of the therapy I had been receiving up until this point, my soul was ready to finally begin building a healthy relationship with him.

Shortly after, about a month later, my car stalled on the way to work. In a panic, I wasn't sure who would be able to help me out at 7:30 in the morning. But then I remembered that my dad would likely be getting off work at that time. I called him, and to my surprise, he was only a mile away. We spent the morning together. I savored this time, though I wasn't really sure why at the time. Maybe it was just nice having 1:1 time with my dad outside of work. I kept apologizing to him that he had to go out of his way to help when I knew how tired he must have been after working a 12 hour night shift. He kept telling me to stop apologizing and that he was glad he could help me.

One week later, I met my dad and grandma for breakfast at a diner. I had the morning off work, and my dad wanted to see how my car was running. He offered to pay for some additional repairs as an upcoming birthday gift. I am not exactly sure why, but this was the very moment that I realized for the first time that my dad loved me as much as he could and as best as he could. He truly wanted to help me. He wanted me to be safe. His words made me feel cared for and protected. The reality was that even though he was broken and responded out of fear many times in his life, he really, truly loved me as much as he was able. And for that, I was thankful.

A few short months later, in July of 2015, my dad and I had difficult talk that was incredibly crucial to mine and his healing (I may write about this at a later time as well). It was the most meaningful and vulnerable talk we had ever had up until that point. The talk that the 2 years of therapy had been preparing me for. A complete breakthrough in our relationship. We were both a little sensitive after getting things out in the open after so long, but in time, our relationship began to grow, and I learned to be even more deliberate in mine and his relationship. Things weren't perfect. But they were good.

And 2 months later, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

Nothing really prepares you for something like that. But somehow, God did. Because of the healing that had taken place during 2 years of therapy, there were no longer any "elephants in the room". My parents were at peace. And my dad had a full-time job that he could keep up with that was separate from the rest of the hospital as he went through 12 rounds of aggressive chemo.

I took more trips to Beaumont to hang out with him, texted him more, and made sure to tell him I loved him whenever I had the chance.

My dad even went into remission for a few months. Something I never expected, but continued to praise God for. I knew his diagnosis was not good, so I never felt it was realistic to pray for healing for him. I knew what was going to happen. The thing that I prayed for most was peace. I did pray, however, that he would feel well enough to go to Florida at the end of July. And he did.

I believe that we are given a certain number of days and breaths on this earth that only God knows. And though I wish my dad had more time here, God knew what was coming. He knew, and I firmly believe that He did absolutely everything in His power to prepare my heart for it. For 13 months, I trusted in God's timing while grieving an impending loss. God brought the most amount of healing into my heart and life that was physically possible given the complicated relationship my dad and I had, and his short time here.

It is so bittersweet for me when I think about it. The grief comes in waves. When I do grieve though, I continue to with praise for God for all that he did for my relationship with my dad in this life, and I hold on to the hope that I will see him again. And when I do, he will be totally healed, and that will be another beautiful thing to praise God for.

I am so thankful to serve a God who promises us that this life is not the end, but the beginning of an eternity with Him.
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