I’d say things have been busy- but really I’ve been on the computer, I’ve had time, I’ve just not had many cohesive thoughts. I found out on Sunday morning that my friend’s dad had died Saturday night. Her dad had been my bishop (church leader) when Steve and I were dating and when we got married. He was a great, great man. My heart aches for my friend and her siblings as they enter the not so fun dead dad’s club. It’s not capitalized but that’s because it’s not official or formal and we don’t have meetings or funny uniforms. But we share a bond, a crappy, crappy bond.
Something I’ve learned these last two years is empathy. I always have felt sad for people when their dad’s died (or when anyone died) but now it’s a deeply personal feeling. There is actual pain in my heart, a lump in my throat and frequent tears for the children that won’t get to know their fathers as adults, or who’s kids won’t remember who Grandpa is. In all honesty it shouldn’t probably affect me that much- but I’ve been there in most ways.
In talking to my mom about it last night I realize how much easier we had it- if it can be easy at all. But we knew it was coming- and we had several good years before it got spectacularly crappy. We had time to tell my dad how we felt about him, time to spend together and time to say goodbye. When he did die we were praying for it to happen, it was time, we were ready and he was ready and he was in so much pain. It wasn’t sudden or unexpected.
I’ve learned through my membership in this club that it gets easier with time. I know that seems cliche, but it’s true. Time really does heal all wounds. Life goes on, which is perhaps the hardest thing of all. Walking out of the funeral I remember feeling like the sky should be cloudy, the streets should be empty and people should be in mourning for my dad. But it was a bright, sunny day, the birds were singing, cars were driving past the chapel not even knowing what a great man had been lost to this world that day. It hit me then that people die everyday, that somewhere someone is mourning in the world all the time. I’ve become better at mourning with those that mourn, which isn’t an ability I’d wish on anyone.
I worry about my kids not knowing about my dad- the grandpa that if they remember they’ll remember as an ill old man, not as the vibrant, active man that he was. The one that had he not gotten sick would be camping and hiking with us regularly. The man that made 51 seem not that old at all, and certainly not old enough to die. I find that it’s in the moments that I miss him, moments when he would have been there that are the hardest- but it’s also when I need to point out that loss to my kids. Not that I always do, sometimes I can’t get the words past the lump in my throat.
There are times to laugh. Your dad would want you to, your kids need to see you remembering the good times with fondness and to hear the silly stories about Grandpa Van. The experience of losing a family member seems to cement bonds within the family in a way that nothing else can. These people know what you’re feeling, they’ve been through it with you. You may think you’re close now- but this past week will bring you closer.
So welcome to the club. I’m sorry to see you here. Your dad will be missed by many. He was an easy man to love. I know I don’t need to tell you this- but take care of your mom. She’s in an even worse club then us.
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