in my heart in the very warmest way.
I miss my Dad. My heart and eyes well up with tearful emotion today. I can’t seem to help it nor control it since yesterday. And others around me who have not lost their fathers, don’t understand. I know I didn’t understand until he passed away. It’s one of those that you don’t seem to really ‘get it’ until you’ve experienced it yourself. There’s no amount of people telling you how hard or different it is to lose a parent that explains it as well as enduring it on your own. And then, when it happens, you understand.
Dad and I didn’t always get along and we didn’t understand each other ~ or maybe I should say we understood each other too well, so that’s why we didn’t get along. 🙂 One of my Mom and Sissy’s favorite jabs is to say I am like my Dad. And truth be told, I am, in many ways. This is the 2nd Father’s Day without him and I can now say that with a lopsided smile so I guess I am healing.
My Dad was unusual. He was adored by many and during his time on Earth, he helped many people who were hurting. Since his passing I have heard stories of how ‘just by being him,’ he helped people get back on their feet who had fallen down, as well as being there for many people’s deaths when there was nobody around. His powerful life force and connection to others still lingers in those who remain here on Earth. He was quirky and downright bossy to all. He did things his way or you could head to the highway. He was uber-organized, had the most amazing memory for time, dates, people and delighted in telling you the entire ancestry of whomever he was talking about because he knew them so well. He was an old-time businessman who had clients for generations on end and could help with family matters because he knew the intricate relationships between family members and how to help accomplish what was needed. One client in particular had nobody left, having outlived her entire family. He called her every single morning to talk with her until she passed and then quietly made sure that she was buried properly with people in attendance so that she wouldn’t be alone.
On the flip side, he had a mean streak too, cursing up a storm and demanding that things been done the way he wanted them to be done. On the whole, I guess I’d admit, he was human. I harshly judged his foibles when I was hurting. I couldn’t see past the ‘sins’ that so plainly sat in my view. Childhood memories to present knowledge yawned before me, an ugly litany of what he did, what he said and how we was. This went on for a long time during his lifetime and after his death. What I didn’t realize was how much I was hurting and as always, I’d stayed quiet, never daring to reveal how I felt and what I knew. Instead, I simmered my anger, spewing my sadness once it was too late to speak with him.
Time passed. Tears flowed. I tired of feeling so badly, but couldn’t find the way to forgive. And then I found a wondrous book which changed by life. It’s a child’s book which I repeatedly read slowly and then it finally dawned on me how I was able to begin the healing process by forgiveness. The Little Soul and the Sun by Neale Donald Walsch changed me by beginning the healing process in my life. After I read it, I could see that many times what I ‘saw plainly through my eyes’ as him belittling me, hurting me intentionally etc, was nothing more than his teaching me to be strong and to be blessed. There were so many a-ha moments after I took the book’s story to heart that they are too numerous to mention, but just as powerful and life-changing to me.
Dad taught me about forgiveness and how to accept others the way we want to be accepted. He taught me about love, about the power of prayer and emphasized keeping in touch with others. He showed me the gift of reaching out hand and heart to people in a healing connection. By example, my Dad left a legacy not of financial solvency, but of unknown numbers of hearts which he touched, he helped and with whom he connected.
So today Dad, no matter how far away you are, you are finally here in my heart, in the warmest way. I salute you. I honor your memory and I am grateful that you were mine.