Four Months, Four Moments

I woke this morning with the painful recognition that it has been four months since my father passed away. Four months of being fatherless. And while I mistakenly thought that four months would bring me to a point of acceptance - I find that it does bring me to a point of appreciation – for the father whose love continues to permeate my life, my very being – and for the Heavenly Father whose comfort continues to soothe my aching soul.
I am amazed that life continues. Every encounter I have with someone or something is altered because my reality is so different. My father is dead. I want to start every conversation with that opening – to share with people my loss. And I am beginning to hear theirs – realizing that everyone has some sort of grief, we are united and unique at the same time. And while I would love to just sit at home and cry – and honestly I did that for portions of today – like when a song that we’d played at his service came on the radio and I lost it (ugly, convulsive loosing it – not sweet, gentle pretty tears, but big mean ugly ones) – I believe that God calls us into life – to live, to participate in life. That Dad would expect that of me. And so I choose to live – and some days that looks better than others. Sometimes it really just isn’t swell – and is so painful that even brushing my teeth seems extravagant. But other times it feels like I’m emerging – that I’m finding life, in a new more poignant way.
So I am choosing life tonight – to reflect on some moments that I’ve had without Dad – because everything is now defined as with or without him. I can’t help but think about how he would have celebrated these with me – how he would have softly chuckled on the phone- and encouraged me with his quiet affirmations…

1. I ran a marathon. And finished it. And only cried at the finish line because it was so beautiful and sad at the same time.
2. I’ve had a birthday – the first one without him. I celebrated by going to the cabin and sat in his chair, curled up with his blanket, fingered his sweatshirt and wept.
3. I got a new job – am finally back in the district that I began in – and in which Dad himself began teaching. I think I’m good at it. I can hear Dad telling me good job and reminding me that it is not my responsibility to save the education system at large, that I am in fact replaceable – but can be really good at the same time.
4. Adeline was hospitalized – and how I wanted to call Dad and talk to him about it – to hear him comfort me – because nothing makes you want your mom and dad more than your own child suffering

So those are four moments that have permeated the past four months. But more than that are the little seconds – the choices I make without deciding, but just know that Dad would want me to choose life…

• I’ve gotten up every morning.
• I’ve combed my childrens’ hair
• I’ve kissed Adeline’s scrapes
• I’ve listened to Dexter read
• I’ve played games,
• I’ve made friends
• I’ve run
• I’ve eaten
• I’ve laughed – even loudly at times
• I’ve prayed
• I’ve grown
And I think it might be the little things that I am most proud of – that I have continued to pursue life even when death has cast such a pervasive shadow. I’m hoping that there will come with time an easier spirit – yet I fear that too, the pain keeps him present. So my journey through grief will continue – and will not reach completion until I claim the promises that Dad is already enjoying. And as I choose life, I will do it with a grateful heart – that I loved and admired my father so deeply – and that I was, in turn, so so loved…