Telling my parents was harder than I ever thought it would be. For months I had carried this burden by myself, suffering in silence hoping that if I didn’t think or talk about it, maybe all my problems would go away. But for some reason that night was different. After sitting on the couch watching our favorite late night television show, I felt like God was telling me that it was time. I sobbed long and hard trying to find the words to tell them what had happened. I was never afraid that they would no longer love me, but I was not sure how they would react to my news.

I told them everything. The way I had been enchanted by him from the moment we met. I told them about all the dates he had taken me on, and the way he had made me laugh. I told them that with him I had felt safe, special and I had wondered if he was the one, my future person. I smiled with a fondness when I showed them the note he had written me when I left and the way he had run to the airport to kiss me goodbye before I got on the plane to come home.

They held my hands in support with puzzled looks on their faces wondering where this was going. And then I told them the real story. In between sobs I shared about the way he had become manipulative. I told them about the times he had gotten too drunk and the ways he had pressured me to be something I was not. I told them about the times I had worried about my safety with him and the night I had ended the relationship, because I no longer wanted to be a part of his game.

And then, I told them about that night. The night that had started off as a last minute hang out before I moved back home, and had turned into my worst nightmare. I told them about the way he had charmed me, bought me dinner, and told me all the things I wanted to hear. I told them about how I suspected he had placed something in my drink and about how he had become too drunk himself. I blinked back the pain I felt as I shook with the words to tell my parents that he had become forceful and violent. I told them about waking up the next morning feeling as if a piece of me was gone, because it was. I told them about how I relive that moment every time I close my eyes because my best friend, the person I cared most about in this world had betrayed me. He took something from me that I will never get back.

As I finished the story, I closed my eyes waiting for what they would say next. I continued to sob and soon I felt them sobbing along with me, their arms came around me and together we grieved as one. My parents told me they loved me and that they were there all the way to support me as my journey of healing begun. The next day I awoke exhausted from the emotional night before. As I ventured out of my room, I was greeted by a note from my father and a bouquet of daisies. The note pledged his support for me in the coming months and promised his prayer and love as I endured the hard times ahead. The daisies were my favorite flower, a balm to my soul, smiling up at me in the faint sunlight of the kitchen promising better days ahead.

Now, a year later, I am still comforted by that image. My father’s love and support has not wavered as I have healed and struggled this past year. Though I am not yet a parent, I think that one of the most amazing gifts a father can give his children is the ability to see God in his own actions. I never have to wonder what its like to have a heavenly Father because the ways in which I know he loves me has been modeled to me time and time again by my own Father. My Dad loved me the way God loves me and though he is not perfect, he has given me the gift of knowing that I am treasured and I am loved in spite of my past.

When I think about that night and those daisies, I don’t just see that way my Dad looked at me; I see the way God looks at me. Though my heart has been broken and parts of it stolen, all he asks is for us to come, to give him all the things that weigh us down. He welcomes us with open arms and cries with us as we cry. He brings beautiful things back into our lives to remind us of the better days to come and walks with us in the healing process.

So today, I got a reminder of that on my body. The same body that last year had lost hope of ever being loved again, now is marked with a reminder of the way God has shown his love to me.

Healing has not been easy, but I know that it is possible to be whole again by the grace of my savior and the love and support of those who have walked with me. Thank you Dad, for being my rock, my biggest supporter and my warrior. Thank you for fighting for me when I could not silence the voices that told me I would never heal. Thank you for not just telling me, but also showing me the way God loves me through your life and your example.

I will heal one day, I will have an amazing brilliant life and I will never forget the ways you have shaped and molded me into the person I am today. I love you.