Okay... So Now What?

As I sit in the warm Spring sunshine on my deck this morning I realize it is quiet, beautiful and the day is full of promise.  Naturally, I have been thinking about the loss of my Father, and how much of an adjustment it has been.  But not in the big, obvious, "my Father passed away" ways, but in the small, subtle ways that I never thought of before.  The way that I have to carefully change my words when I talk to my Mom and ask her if she lost power during the storms, instead of "did you guys" lose power.  The way that a picture in my living room catches my eye and I realize that I will never see that sideways glance my Dad gave us when someone was saying something he thought was a little crazy.

So now what?  All the out of town guests are gone, the services and ceremony are over, the food is consumed, and life is supposed to go back to "normal".  But it's not normal.  It's very, very different.  I know that I am not the only person to have ever lost a parent, but I am having trouble figuring out what the new "normal" is.  I feel like all of us are smothering my Mother, because this has to be indescribably difficult for her.  But part of that is our way of coping also.  It is not that we feel her incapable of doing things for herself, my Mother is the single most capable woman that I know.  But if we can do something around the house to make the absence of Dad easier, that is what we do.  I have never, ever cut the grass at my own house, but I find myself being more than willing to do so at hers, although my brother seems to have that completely under control... (Except, now that I think about it, I don't think he cuts his own his grass, either!)

The next two months, in particular, will be very hard for us.  Mother's Day, my birthday, Father's Day and his birthday are coming up.  His loss will be profound during these times.  I knew, but never comprehended, what a monumentally huge part of my life my Father's presence was.  I think of him so often and see him everywhere I look. I know that he, his influence in my life, and me as a person will be felt always.  I just hope that it doesn't ache like this forever.

Writer's Block

The next two days will probably be the hardest two days of my life so far.  I have had a couple days to get ready, but I could not feel more unprepared.  Really... how does one prepare to say their final goodbyes to a parent?

My Mom asked me to write down some things about Dad to give to the Chaplin performing his funeral service so that he will know what kind of man Dad was.  I have been sitting here thinking and I am having a lot of trouble completing this task.  Not because I am unable to come up with many, many wonderful reasons that my Father was a tremendous man, but because I cannot come up with the right words to properly express what I want to say.  The words just don't say enough... they just don't seem adequate, there are no words big enough to relay to someone who did not know Dad personally what a great man he was.  It is a rare moment when I am at a loss of words, but that is where I find myself right now.

I wish you were here, Dad, to tell me that the words don't matter.  That anyone who knew you already knows that there are no words to describe you.  You were amazing.  And I miss you.

June 15, 1942 - April 11, 2011

A lifetime. My Father's lifetime. Today, my Family stood surrounding my Father and watched as he slipped quietly into eternal rest.  I am at peace with it because I know that he is now at peace and there will be no more suffering for him.

I held his hand, and remembered the times he held mine.  I remembered all the things he built with those hands and the gentle care they took of my Mother when she was sick, and my baby when she was small.  I touched his feet, and remembered all the miles he has walked.  I remembered the steps those feet took in rhythm with mine as he walked me down the aisle on my wedding day.  I touched his legs, once muscular and powerful, and remembered the ladders he climbed to fix things, or to retrieve a wayward basketball stuck on the roof.  I touched his arms, and remembered how they hugged me every time I saw him.  I remembered how he would cross them across his chest when he was standing and getting ready to tell a long story.  I touched his face and remembered all the smiles and laughter that seemed always present when he was around.  I touched his chest, that held the biggest heart of anyone I have ever known.  The heart that held all that is good and meaningful in the world and that overflowed with love for his Wife, his Children, his Grandchildren, his Family and his Friends.

My Father's lifetime did not end today.  He will live on for many more lifetimes because a man like my Father will never truly die- he lives on in us.  In every hand we hold, every decision we make, every hug we give our children, every smile and every step we take. 

Rest peacefully now, Dad.  I love you.

André Paré

June 15, 1942 - April 11, 2011