Father's Day, Stuck Places, and a New Door

Father's Dayand aNew Door

My new front door. And look! It's open.

A re-posted story about Father's Day, home improvement projects, stuck places, and why it took me over a year to choose a new door.

"It's just a door," my friend said as I talked to him over the phone. We had been discussing dates to have him come over and replace the entry door of our home. "Pick out what you want and I'll install it."

So I went to Home Depot.

Just? There is nothing "just" about choosing a door.

Slab doors. Pre-hung doors. Wood doors. Steel doors. Fiberglass doors.

Did I want a window in the door? Did I want to paint the door? Did the door open from the right or from the left? Was it 32 or 36 inches wide?

The man from Home Depot had many questions.

I went back home without a door.

I lamented about the door to my husband, the man who was perfectly fine with the original 1970's press-board door that currently hung in the entryway, a door that was exfoliating like skin after a bad sunburn. After four decades in the Arizona sun, the door's condition was understandable.

"You've been talking about replacing that door for over a year," he said.

"I know."

"What's keeping you from doing it?"

I started to repeat the Home Depot lament.

He interrupted me, "What's keeping you from doing it?" (This is always a good question to ask in stuck places.)

We both knew I had no problem picking out other things I've wanted over the years for the house.

The answer to his question hit me hard. Hard like when a boy punched me in the stomach when I was a girl over a softball game dispute and I couldn't find enough air. That kind of hard.

My dad always did house projects with me.

I was waiting for Dad to walk through that door and help me install a new one, which of course, made no sense at all since Dad had died three years ago. The longer I put off installing a new door, the longer I could avoid facing the fact that he wasn't around to join me on a trip to Home Depot, exploring the aisles of faucets, toilet seats, and window blinds.

Choosing a door was just one more of the unexpected changes needed to be faced in the walking out of loss and grief.

Who knew grief was so complicated? Yet once I realized and put a name to it, I was able to move forward.

I returned to Home Depot and selected a door. I made an appointment for our friend to install it.

Sometimes grief leaves you gasping for air. And sometimes grief is about walking through new doors.

So, to my dad on this Father's Day:

I'm opening a door.

It's been closed for too long and I wasn't even aware it was shut.

But you taught me how to open closed doors. You taught me that when life shuts a door to open it again.

Because it's a door.

And that's how doors work.

If you are facing a closed door on this Father's Day,

my heart is with you.

I pray for the courage to grasp the door knob.

And open the door.

Because that's how doors work.