Day 167: Fathers Day

This is a difficult post for me to write. That’s because I believe I haven’t really dealt with my father’s death, 16 years later.

I talk to other people about the grieving process, and how it doesn’t have a particular time frame or correct course.

So I’m not even sure what I mean, when I write that I haven’t “really dealt with” his passing yet.

Here is something I’ve told other people, when there’s a goodbye:

The pain of the loss is a direct reflection of the importance of the connection.

People have told me they have found that a useful and helpful statement. I have found it helpful, too. But the pain of my father’s loss — according to that statement — would be huge. Maybe even unbearable.

My father’s death came after a long illness, so it wasn’t unexpected. At the same time, I never really believed that he would ever leave; so his absence is unexpected, every day.

People with certain beliefs might say that he has never left, so there is no need to grieve him with the full measure of pain.

And sometimes I do feel that he is present, and even watching over me.

However, I don’t get to interact with him, the way I used to. I don’t get to experience his humor, connection with others, musicality, thoughtfulness, quickness, joys, disappointments, and moment-to-moment reactions to life. I don’t get to see the expressions on his face and those on the faces of people interacting with him. (I know what delight looks like, on many different visages.)

And I miss all that, so much.

I’ve also said that my single regret about life — the one thing I could change, if I could — is that my father died three months before I got pregnant with my son. He never knew he had a grandson, and it’s such a loss that the two of them never got to meet and enjoy each other.

People with certain beliefs would say comforting words about that, too. And I’m open to the possibility that these comforting words are all true.

In any case, I’m so glad I got to have so many days on earth with my father.

And on this Fathers Day, I am very aware of this:

The pain of the loss is a direct reflection of the importance of the connection.

That pain is there, I know. And maybe it’s part of everything I am and do, today.

And I am grateful for its beautiful source.

Thanks for reading.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , | 3 Comments

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3 thoughts on “Day 167: Fathers Day

  1. Gene Phillips

    I only interacted with your father twice, I think, but I still remember how quick his wit was.

  2. Pingback: Day 445: PCP (March 21, 2014) | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

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