One year ago today, my father passed away. And this week Ive remembered the phone call, Ive remember having to call my brothers, my sister, to let them know. Ive remembered camping trips and theology, romantic comedies and the fact that he left the room before the last scene of braveheart because he could not stand to watch a good man suffer. I remember strangers coming up to me at the memorial and telling me how my father saved their life, their marriage, their family. I do know for a fact, with no exaggeration, that he comes to my thoughts multiple times a day, every day. when I need to focus on how to be something thats good, or retelling of one of his terrible jokes, or being moved almost to tears remembering the way he honored my mother publicly and privately. I am humbled by his life, and lessened by the loss. There are some people who glow in a way that has no ego, or agenda and though I often joked that sometimes he would look at me as though completely confused that such a thing had come from his lineage, it was more me, wondering how one could become so selfless, so incandescent, and so good. My heart is broken. There is no silver lining. But it is worth it to know him, worth it to be ten years old and watch him give his lunch to a homeless man, worth it to be 12 and hear him talking to himself while working alone and hoping I could maybe sneak up and hear my father curse for the first time and once I get close enough to hear it is him praying for his family as he digs through soil and rock and Dad I love you, and nothing is the way it should be, and Im so grateful.
Posted on: Fri, 01 Aug 2014 13:42:25 +0000
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