As I talked to Leslee on the phone tonight she said, “you know who would have a birthday today if he was still here?” and I said, “yes, our Dad.” And then she suggested that it would’ve been fun to have thrown him a birthday party, complete with a wheelchair (her addition to any party for someone 40+…ha!). I agreed that would’ve been great. It’s no joke that heaven is just a little too far away.
For the past few years I’ve written about the anniversary of losing my Dad, and it has been good for me. It’s good to see progress in the years, to be reminded that the hardest ones come and go, and that there are some really good ones scattered in, too. November 22 is always a dreaded day
for me. I usually dread the entire week. well month, really. I
just don’t enjoy November. That’s all
there is to it. Losing my Daddy ruined
November for me. And that’s okay; people
grieve differently. I hate a month on
the calendar…who cares! Ha!
This year was much easier than last year. Last year (the year he had been gone as long
as I had known him) had just been dreaded since the moment he was gone. This year held no expectations or additional
concerns for me. And, of course, I lived
through last year, so I figured I had this one.
;) Was it easy? Absolutely not, but I noticed things that I hadn’t
before.
For instance, I never really talk to my sister about losing
my Dad, unless she brings it up. This
year, the anniversary fell on Thanksgiving Day.
We had a house full of my step-dad’s family. Several times that day, my sister hugged me a
little tighter and a little longer than usual.
Once she asked if I was okay, and once she said, “I know you miss
him. I do, too.” I hugged her a little tighter and a little
longer than usual, and tried to bury the tears the best I could. (No one wants to cry in front of 20+ people). Leslee is incredible; she always has the most
simple, yet profound statements for me at the most needed times. It’s like she knows just what I need to hear;
what an incredible blessing.
Life has a crazy way of shaping who we are. So many of my decisions are based on the way
I was raised, on what I know my Daddy would be proud of, and on the faith that
he helped solidify in me. These past 17
years have been far from easy without him, but I have learned so much. Some days this hurt has left me feeling
ragged, cynical, and bitter. I have to
really battle those days. More often,
though, are the days where I see that the incredible can come from the deepest
hurts. It’s those times that I know I
would never have been who I am, had I not experienced my Dad’s death. I can pray so intensely for those battling
similar situations. I can empathize with
those hurting. I really think the Lyndee
without this experience may have overlooked some of these people and situations,
and just moved on being glad it wasn’t me.
It’s nice that some days I realize just how precious life is, and how we
aren’t promised a single minute. I wish
I thought about that more and worried less about the dumb little details of
life that often get in the way. Some days
I ache just wishing he was still here. Grief
has a way of knocking the breath out of you sometimes. It’s like something triggers a memory, and
though it may be a really sweet memory, it’s always bittersweet that I can’t
reach out and call Dad and reminisce with him.
I would give up everything for another hug, to see the twinkle in those
blue eyes, and to just be held by my Daddy, with the reassurance that all was
good with the world and that everything would be okay, because he was
there. That’s not my plight, though, so
I have to remember the best of who he was, work to be the best I can be,
reflect on how this journey has molded me, and make the best of the days
ahead.
Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of
the overcoming of it. – Helen Keller
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