This Father’s Day has been hard. There is definitely a void in my heart living without my dad. I sometimes still feel him -in my dreams, in my thoughts, in my reasoning things out (what would Dad do or say in this situation). But in my physical realm, there is a hole. It is hard to describe if you’ve never lost someone who is this close to you. Now I understand sympathy cards a little better, I understand sad movies, I understand the fruitless nature of trying to describe utter loss.
Dad, Mom and Me
I have been working through my grief over these months since he died and have tried to channel it into positive energy. If death does anything, it helps you look more objectively at your own life. It helps you realize at some point we will all be there facing our own death….tomorrow or 70 years down the line. In the end, you will have to ask yourself if you felt that you had accomplished what you were set here to do, whether you did what you wanted to do, and how many people (animals, things) you helped on their paths. This understanding is one of the gifts of my father’s death.
I had a really hard time accepting that my dad was truly terminally ill. I couldn’t believe it. It was all I had left -hope- to believe that he would get better and live another 20 years. And so I think it was harder for me to go through all the stages of grief because it felt so raw, so unbelieveable.
Me, my mom, my brother and dad
I think it was ultimately a good thing for me that I saw him take his last breath. He gave this unforgettable moment to me. I was there to witness his transition from life, from struggling, straining to breathe, trying to fill his lungs, his body with life for a few more seconds and then finally letting go to complete calm, complete peace. It was the most incredible and painful thing I’ve ever been through. I was in shock, I was also awed. I felt like I was watching a movie of someone else going through it. I screamed, I cried until I felt like I would die myself. And I was left with what still looked like my dad -a shell of him-, but it was not, anymore. And I realized why death scares people. It is so natural and such a part of life (I’ve heard once that death is like our shadow, always with us), but yet it is so hidden and confusing because we never confront or face it.
So yes, I think it was good for me to actually witness it -to make it more real. If I hadn’t seen it, I would have been in my mind trying to reconstruct it, trying to piece it together, making it something that I am sure it was not. But I was there! I walked him to the departure gate of the Soul Port (hospital) and said ‘I love you’ and wished him well on his next journey. I saw it in all its horrible glory. I couldn’t deny it. Not when I was slapped with it.
Still it was confusing. Still I wanted to deny it. Still I wanted to turn back time and do more with him, take more videos, take more pictures, encapsulate him forever. But that’s the thing. We can’t hold on to life -to anything- forever. We sure try; we hoard, we save, we collect, we photograph, we memorialize, we try everything in our power to hold on with “dear life” to our dear life. But in the end, there is an end. And that, is hard. There will be Father’s Days without fathers. And eventually there will days without me. And that is the way this game is played. Sometimes we forget this will all our illusions, but death gives us that gift of remembering to live. This is another gift my father gave me.
I miss my dad the most when I think about him not being here physically. When I think about never again going over to visit him and my mom and having him hug me or say “Hey, it’s Casco and the B-Man!” When I think about never hearing his laugh or snorts or little idiosyncracies. When I think about him never again cooking breakfast or flipping steaks on the grill. When I think that he will never be in his body once more.
And whether it’s a delusion or whatever, I feel better thinking that he is still around me in some form. Still watching out for me. And on the morning of Father’s Day while I was still groggy with sleep, I could have sworn I felt his mustache whiskers and lips on my cheek. And so I have to say thank you, Dad, for all your gifts on Father’s Day without my father.
