One morning last February, I stood in the shower in a state of absolute weakness. My eyes were dark and puffy from sobbing the night before.

The freezing rain outside seemed to mirror the feeling in my heart, a feeling that had lingered since days earlier when I found out that my dad had cancer. It was not a terribly aggresive variety. Still, I knew that the treatment alone would eat at his body almost as much as the disease. To see the man who had always been my strong protector and able guide suddenly weakened and altered by things unseen was a blow that I had no strength to recover from.

I had been knocked down and I couldn’t get up.

The news had been eating into my mind a little more each day. Every song I heard about love, fathers, God, death, or families brought bitter tears to my eyes. Every time I was alone my heart would beat a bit faster and my mind would reel. Hot tears would begin to run down my cheeks before I knew what to do. So I tried not to be alone.

Finally I had to tell someone. I told one girl and then another, hoping desperately they would offer a hint of encouragement to my weak heart. The response: silence, a clichéd comment about God’s faithfulness and prayer, and then back to trite conversation.

I fought anger off like a wild animal. Why couldn’t they understand? This was my father! The man who has loved and cared for me like no man ever can or will again. The man who has served God with his whole being for years. The one man I look up to most in the world aside from Jesus Himself! Why couldn’t they understand how much this hurt?

But aside from my emotions, I knew very well that they could never know. I knew very well that I would respond in a similar way to anyone who gave me the same news about their father. I knew that human friendship, regardless of its divine beauty, is finite and frail.

And then I felt utterly alone.

I’ve known few times so dark as that night when I realized that no one can know what I felt. But in that darkness, the light was finally able to shine bright enough for me to be overwhelmed with its glory. I knew that only Jesus knew. I knew that, no matter what happened or what God decided to do, He’d be there. He would always be there.

That’s why, that morning in the shower, with eyes red and watery, I could smile. Even though I felt week and broken, I couldn’t shake the feeling that He was right beside me. I didn’t need to be strong. Jesus was my strength now.

It wasn’t the feeling I get when He speaks to me. It wasn’t the feeling I get when I pray. It was the feeling you can only feel when a dear friend is close to you but does not say a word. In that silence there was closeness with the Father that I will always cherish. Words did not belong, only love.

I never want to forget what God gave me that morning and for the following days. Even now, after my dad has finished treatment and the weather has warmed, I am overcome with love for the God who loves me so much that He would break the barriers of sin and destruction in order to be my truest friend and guide me through this life.