It’s a date I’ll never forget. A date that put a before and after in my life.
Two years ago, on this date, my dad fell. For a week, I floated on a cloud of surrealness, fear and hope.
A few months ago, my husband and I got to hear our good friend, Adam, share his testimony. Adam read a poem he had written to his father whom he lost when he was young. As he read the poem he penned all those years ago, he cried. His words were beautiful, but it was his tears that struck me. Slapped me, even.
I love my dad’s story. I hate how he died. I hate when he died. But I love his story. I love that a stubborn, short-tempered, and sometimes outspoken small town guy, loved people from all walks of life, worked tirelessly even when unappreciated, and showed up when it mattered.
I miss that about him. I remember it fondly. I share it frequently.
But I was still floating. Hoping that someday the sadness wouldn’t be there. The hurt, the void, the absence of my dad wouldn’t be present anymore. That all his good works and great stories would be all I would hold onto. I realized, however, listening to Adam share his story of losing his father, that I was, without awareness, really, searching for a place that does not exist.
Yes, with time there does come peace and comfort. But the loss is still very present. The before and after line does not erase. I have learned that great loss means there was great love.
I had an amazing father for almost 30 years. Whether it is two years or twenty years from the last time we spoke, I will always miss him.
All sorrows can be borne if you put them in a story or tell a story about them.~ Isak Dinesen.
Love you, Dad! Miss you!