I have debated about writing an entry on this subject but wasn't sure if it was one I wanted to post or not. It doesn't entirely revolve around my father and while it is based on what happened to him, I just wasn't sure if it was a topic I'd include here. Writing has helped me through this grieving process. If I can let go of some things I've been feeling by writing about it, well, I may as well do it.
When a loved one passes away, most people smother you with their love, support and prayers. My family and I joked about the three token sympathy phrases we heard: "I'm so sorry for your loss", "My thoughts and prayers are with you during this time" and "If there is anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask." They are the cliche death phrases that people tell you when they have no idea what else to say. And really - what else is there to say? So, I acknowledge and appreciate their gesture of support. While some people rush to be by your side, others totally retreat away from you and act like nothing ever happened. It is those people that this entry is about.
People go on with their lives. I understand that. While they may think of those grieving from time to time, they aren't living with the pain, grief and disbelief that is left after losing a loved one. The truth of the matter is that until you are in the situation you really do not know what it feels like. That being said, I don't know what it's like to lose a sibling like my good friend Jackie did, but I know what her pain from grief and loss feels like. I don't know what it feels like to lose a child, but I can relate to Chris and Lani with the grief and loss they feel. I think until you are touched by a loss so close, you just don't understand. Losing a parent is something that almost all of us will go through in our lifetime. I went through it earlier than most should, but I know that one day everyone will understand, unfortunately.
Over the past few years, a few of my very good friends lost their fathers. It wasn't until I lost my own father that I realized I wasn't a support for them during that time. I felt so terrible about it. My good friend Mary told me not to worry when I communicated this to her about when she lost her father. She told me that she had the same feelings and realizations when her Dad died about other friends of hers who lost their fathers. She said those same words to me "Until you go through it, you just don't know".
I've been told that I am a highly emotional and sensitive person. I don't disagree. I hold onto emotions and feel them deeply. Sometimes I let them get the best of me. I have trouble letting go of negative feelings and it is something I'm working on. Currently, I'm struggling the most with letting go of disappointment I feel towards a few people in my life that haven't been there for me. Its baffles me how some have just not acknowledged the fact that I just went through what I'd consider to be one of the worst experiences of my life. I have spoken to others who have suffered losses and unfortunately, this rings true across the board. Everyone makes the same claims. I've read it in books many times. Just the other night, I came across this passage in this book I'm reading about grief. (pardon my quoting, I'm a bit rusty on the rules of citing sources! :)
"You may have better insight into some of your relationships at this time - who can best provide an ear to listen to you, and who can best motivate you to get things done. You may also re-prioritize many of your relationships because of what you experience in grief, and how you experience it. Many of the people that I have worked with have changed the company they keep as a result of going through the grief process. Similarly, you may find that some of your closest friends are no longer very close to you, or are not very understanding of what you are going through. You may also find that people you had thought of as casual acquaintances are now much closer friends. On the other hand, close friends and relatives may come forward with unwavering support and show you just why you love them."
I read that and thought, YES! All of the above applies! I have family members and friends who I have grown even closer with and who have been an absolutely amazing support. I have people who I didn't consider to be great friends with surprise me and be incredibly supportive. It is all of their positivity and support that I should be focusing on - a lot of times of I do.
When I vent to Jimmy about it he is incredibly understanding and helpful. It doesn't take away the hurt I feel though. In talking with a few people, I've explored a few possibilities. "Maybe they don't deal well with death" is one that a lot of people say. Well, I'll tell ya what! This one gets my blood going. If that isn't the worst excuse, then I don't know what is. Who does deal well with death? The only people I can think of are those in the funeral business.
Another popular one: "Maybe they don't know what to say or are afraid to say the wrong thing?" To that I say - I'd rather have you say the wrong thing to me than not say anything at all. Oh, but wait? You are uncomfortable with death? Well, guess what? SO AM I! The difference is that I have absolutely no choice but to deal with it.
I also wonder if people look at me and think "She's laughing, smiling, joking around...she seems like herself so I guess she is ok" or "She didn't have a good relationship with her father anyway, I'm sure this isn't too hard for her to deal with". The reality is yeah, I am ok. Yeah, I am still Jennie. The difference is that there is a lot more going on in my head right now. This experience has made me think differently about everything. It has made me ponder about purpose, life, death, friendships, what I want for myself out of life......its all heavy shit, that's for sure. Its constantly brewing and swirling through my brain so while I seem like me, I'm really not. It is this new me. It is a transitional me who wants good things and wants to feel good. In my head, I feel like all of my life boxes are unpacked for me to examine closely. I'm sorting through, processing them and figuring out what I want to toss and what I want to keep. Phish sings the line "So toss away stuff you don't need in the end, But keep what's important and know who's your friend" in their song titled Theme from the Bottom. I can't help but to feel a connection to those lyrics since that is exactly what I'm doing right now.
That all doesn't mean I'm throwing some friends and family away though. I think of a saying that Rebecca, my spiritual adviser, once told me. "People come into our life for a lifetime, a reason or a season. As we continue through life's up and downs, we will learn who we can count on. Just because someone you consider to be close with isn't really there for you when the going gets tough doesn't mean they don't add value to friendship in other ways." I know she is right and I try to keep her voice of positivity with me often.
Ultimately, I know this is all normal. I know I should focus on those that are there for me right now versus those who aren't. I know it is not just me who has felt this way. I know there are others who can relate. I also know that I will get through this. I'll get the life boxes in my head organized and cleaned up. As I wrap up this entry, I can hear Dad saying, "Jen, this too shall pass."
Book Quote from:
Grieving Mindfully by Sameet M. Kumar, Ph.D. Page 63
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
3 months
Today marks the 3 month anniversary of Dad's passing. I've spoken with Holly, Becca and Rach and they all agree with me. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that he left us while other times it feels like an eternity.
Either way, one thing is clear. We are getting further and further away from the day that he died. We will never get to go back in that direction or get closer to that day, ever again. This distance will continue to grow leaving us with only photos, sentimental belongings of his and memories.
Dad, we love you and think about you everyday. Today we reflect on you, your life and what its been like without you for the past three months.
Either way, one thing is clear. We are getting further and further away from the day that he died. We will never get to go back in that direction or get closer to that day, ever again. This distance will continue to grow leaving us with only photos, sentimental belongings of his and memories.
Dad, we love you and think about you everyday. Today we reflect on you, your life and what its been like without you for the past three months.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Eternally Comfortable - Part 2
After Dad died, my grandparents and stepmom, Holly, discussed where he should be buried. Since Dad was supposed to move to Delray Beach, FL on the day he died, we knew he ultimately would have enjoyed being put to rest there. It was also important to Bube and Pop Pop that he was close so they could visit him often. They found a beautiful Veteran’s cemetery in Boynton Beach, FL and knew that was the perfect place for him. Since he served in Vietnam from 1969-1971 and had an honorable discharge, he qualified to be buried there. The ceremony for FL was set for November 9, 2009, so Jimmy and I flew to FL a day in advance. We met my sisters at the airport, checked into the hotel and went to be with all of our family for dinner.
At my Uncle’s Jay and Janee’s house on Sunday night, we had a great BBQ dinner cooked for us by Janee’s daughters. We sat around the table and told funny stories about Dad. That moment was surely something he would have loved to have been a part of. He loved telling stories from his childhood, especially when the family got together.
During many points throughout the night, I became an observer. My family was altogether. My grandparents, my Uncles, my cousins....altogether under one roof! We always had various family gatherings growing up but as the years went on, rifts were formed and we got together less and less. What I had experienced as family togetherness as a child became just a memory. Though years later, all because of the circumstances, here we were…….altogether again. It is something I never would have believed if you told me it would happen. It was necessary and it felt good, even if the reason it was happening was because Dad was gone.
We knew Monday would be a long day so it wasn’t a late night at Uncle Jay and Janee’s house. Jimmy, my sisters and I went back to the hotel and got a good night’s rest. My sisters and I woke up on Monday morning with dread in our bones. Today, we would bury our father. This was it. It was final. As eager as I was to get the Wednesday Maryland service over with was as apprehensive as I was to get the Monday one over with. We knew it would be hard and emotional to go through an entire service again and it was.
Jimmy, my sisters and I were the first to arrive at the funeral home which didn’t surprise us. If you didn’t know, many of the Shorr’s are notoriously late and Dad’s funeral was no exception, funny enough. They took us back into a cozy waiting room filled with plush leather sofas and boxes of tissues everywhere. The energy in this room wasn’t good no matter how much they tried with the upbeat photography and dimmed lighted. I wondered how many tears had been shed in here. I thought of all of the sad people that collapsed on these nice sofas in pure grief. I thought about all of the hugs and kisses that had been exchanged in there. I wondered how many boxes of tissues they’d gone through, but most of all, I wondered how on earth I ended up here. Then that thought was let out of my mind’s compartment once again and......oh yeah....Dad died.
We were told the casket wouldn’t be open again once it was closed in Maryland. So, you can imagine our surprise when we entered the sanctuary to see Dad’s Vietnam hat sticking up out of the coffin. We hadn’t prepared ourselves to see him again. I’ll never forget the look on Rebecca’s face. I think it was her that was taken aback the most by this. When the funeral director saw our surprise upon walking in the room, he held us back to make sure Dad was ok. He wasn’t embalmed and it had been exactly one week since he died. We weren’t sure how he’d look truthfully. After a quick check, the director told us it was ok to come in. As we got closer, we saw Dad’s hat in more detail. The plaid in his shirt came to view and then his coveralls. Yup, it was him. He was still in there. He was still dead, but surprisingly, he looked even better than he had last week. I looked in the casket and saw that the letter I wrote him was still tucked in his arm. His pocket knife was still in his pocket. He still looked comfortable.
Seeing my Uncle Jay, my Dad’s youngest brother, and my cousins see him for the first time in the casket was hard. Seeing my Bube and Pop-Pop collapse on his casket again was also hard. I stood at the foot of his coffin with my hands touching the flag that draped it. I looked at my entire family gathered around my father. I saw the sadness in each of their eyes. It is a moment that my mind’s picture gallery will never forget.
Before we knew it, the family waiting room was filled with people paying their respects to us. Most of them were friends with my Uncle Jay, Janee and Bube and Pop-Pop, so there were lots of introductions. However, my heart lit up when a friend of mine appeared in the line. Noelle gave me a familiar hug which at that moment was needed more than she’ll ever know. Noelle had relocated to FL a few years ago and lived about an hour north of my grandparents. When she learned my father died and that there would be a FL service, she told me to keep her updated. I didn’t expect to see her there because she has two little ones and a husband with a very crazy work schedule. Though, she made it. It meant so much to me to have the support of a good friend on such a difficult day.
The line of greeters was dwindling and it was time to start the service and move back into the sanctuary. It was different from the one in Baltimore. Behind the podium were French doors which looked out into a courtyard with trees. As we entered, I noticed the overcast skies and how the wind blew the trees around at a steady pace. We sat in the front row and the Rabbi took the podium. He spoke and then invited my sisters and I to read our Eulogy again. After we spoke, members of my family said a few words. My cousin Jordan spoke and my Uncle Jay’s wife, Janee, spoke on my behalf of my Bube. Finally, my dad’s youngest brother (Uncle Jay) and twin brother (Uncle Ed) spoke. After everyone concluded speaking, the Rabbi began again. He said the line, “Howard is with his keeper now” and with that, the skies let up. Rain streaks filled the outside of the French doors at a rapid pace. Raindrops got bigger and bigger and before we knew it, the rains outside became torrential and the service was over.
We were on a strict timeline at the cemetery because of other funerals but when we stepped outside, we knew we’d be late. Since we were having the burial at a Veteran’s cemetery, we had a motorcade from the funeral home to the cemetery. The men couldn’t ride motorcycles and escort us safely in these rains so we were held up almost 30 minutes. As we sat in the car and listened to the rain pound on the roof while we waited, we joked that Dad wasn’t quite ready to go to the cemetery just yet.
Just as quickly as the rains came on, they stopped. It cleared enough for us to begin our drive. Since it was a slow motorcade, it felt like it took forever to get there. We were quiet in the car and definitely anxious. Before long we were pulling into this beautiful green landscaped area at the cemetery. I was impressed with how pretty and neatly kept this place was. There were plants and American flags everywhere. It was clean and welcoming. When we stepped out of the car, I noticed how quiet and peaceful it was too. I thought to myself, Dad will be happy here.
At this cemetery, they don’t do the burial service at the actual plot. Instead, they took us to this small covered pavilion. On the path up to the pavilion my family was saluted by a few members of the National Guard which was an intense moment. We all gathered in the pavilion while I stood up in front with the Rabbi since I asked to read a short prayer. It was then that I saw the side of my Dad’s coffin with two stickers placed on it. One read: Howard L. Shorr, the other read: DOB: 5/2/50, DOD: 11/2/09. A pit feeling filled my stomach. Reading those stickers was just another thing that made this all more real and final.
Once we were all gathered, Taps began to play. I always associated this song with the old computer game of Hangman that I used to play growing up. While it was being played, I couldn’t help but think how much I’d rather be hearing this after losing a game of hangman. I wished so badly I wasn’t hearing it because I lost my father instead.
Since we were late to the cemetery, they were rushing us which I wasn’t thrilled about. I was first told there wasn’t even enough time for me to read my short prayer which upset me. In the end, the rabbi insisted to the cemetery director that I read it. The prayer that I wanted to read was special for a few reasons. First, it is beautiful and appropriate. Second, it was read earlier in the year at a memorial service for Silas Orion, the son of our good friends Chris and Lani. Silas entered the world on 9/25/08 and left 10 hours later which devastated us all. In May, Chris and Lani held a tree planting ceremony at their local park in New Haven, CT. They planted a beautiful maple and sprinkled some of his ashes into the soil. Chris read the Hopi’s Prayer of the Soul’s Graduation which I heard for the first time, then. It was heart wrenching. It was beautiful and perfect. As soon as I found out there would be a burial service for Dad, I asked if I could read something short there. I knew immediately that I had to read that same Hopi prayer. As we stood under the pavilion, the wind picked up and the rain started again, hard. It was pounding up on the tin roof of the pavilion so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. I remember saying in my head, “Dad, make the rain stop! I want to read this prayer for you and I want everyone to hear it!!!” Time was precious since the next service was waiting and I was afraid with the rain not letting up I wouldn’t be able to read. All of the sudden, it slowed. It was still loud and I knew I had to really speak up, but what followed still gives me the chills. I began to read...
HOPI PRAYER of The Soul's Graduation:
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight
On the ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.
My Spirit is still alive…
At the part where I read “I am a thousand winds that blow”, the wind gusted all around us. At the part where I read “I am the gentle Autumn's rain”, the rain blew in sideways, sprinkling us all. Now, I don’t believe in coincidences. I knew Dad was making his presence known there. I barely got through the poem with my shaky, crying voice but I did it. It was beautiful and I knew Dad would have appreciated it.
The Rabbi said his final prayer and the flag was taken off of Dad’s casket. The national guardsmen began to fold the flag with extreme precision. It was folded perfectly into a triangle and presented to my grandparents. There wasn’t a dry eye while this was happening. They saluted my grandparents and the service was over. We all got a little bit of soil from Israel to sprinkle on Dad’s casket. I kissed my hand, touched the casket, said in my head “Dad, I love you, rest in peace!” and walked away. It was time to go and I didn’t look back. Dad was at his new home and I knew he’d be eternally comfortable there.
At my Uncle’s Jay and Janee’s house on Sunday night, we had a great BBQ dinner cooked for us by Janee’s daughters. We sat around the table and told funny stories about Dad. That moment was surely something he would have loved to have been a part of. He loved telling stories from his childhood, especially when the family got together.
During many points throughout the night, I became an observer. My family was altogether. My grandparents, my Uncles, my cousins....altogether under one roof! We always had various family gatherings growing up but as the years went on, rifts were formed and we got together less and less. What I had experienced as family togetherness as a child became just a memory. Though years later, all because of the circumstances, here we were…….altogether again. It is something I never would have believed if you told me it would happen. It was necessary and it felt good, even if the reason it was happening was because Dad was gone.
We knew Monday would be a long day so it wasn’t a late night at Uncle Jay and Janee’s house. Jimmy, my sisters and I went back to the hotel and got a good night’s rest. My sisters and I woke up on Monday morning with dread in our bones. Today, we would bury our father. This was it. It was final. As eager as I was to get the Wednesday Maryland service over with was as apprehensive as I was to get the Monday one over with. We knew it would be hard and emotional to go through an entire service again and it was.
Jimmy, my sisters and I were the first to arrive at the funeral home which didn’t surprise us. If you didn’t know, many of the Shorr’s are notoriously late and Dad’s funeral was no exception, funny enough. They took us back into a cozy waiting room filled with plush leather sofas and boxes of tissues everywhere. The energy in this room wasn’t good no matter how much they tried with the upbeat photography and dimmed lighted. I wondered how many tears had been shed in here. I thought of all of the sad people that collapsed on these nice sofas in pure grief. I thought about all of the hugs and kisses that had been exchanged in there. I wondered how many boxes of tissues they’d gone through, but most of all, I wondered how on earth I ended up here. Then that thought was let out of my mind’s compartment once again and......oh yeah....Dad died.
We were told the casket wouldn’t be open again once it was closed in Maryland. So, you can imagine our surprise when we entered the sanctuary to see Dad’s Vietnam hat sticking up out of the coffin. We hadn’t prepared ourselves to see him again. I’ll never forget the look on Rebecca’s face. I think it was her that was taken aback the most by this. When the funeral director saw our surprise upon walking in the room, he held us back to make sure Dad was ok. He wasn’t embalmed and it had been exactly one week since he died. We weren’t sure how he’d look truthfully. After a quick check, the director told us it was ok to come in. As we got closer, we saw Dad’s hat in more detail. The plaid in his shirt came to view and then his coveralls. Yup, it was him. He was still in there. He was still dead, but surprisingly, he looked even better than he had last week. I looked in the casket and saw that the letter I wrote him was still tucked in his arm. His pocket knife was still in his pocket. He still looked comfortable.
Seeing my Uncle Jay, my Dad’s youngest brother, and my cousins see him for the first time in the casket was hard. Seeing my Bube and Pop-Pop collapse on his casket again was also hard. I stood at the foot of his coffin with my hands touching the flag that draped it. I looked at my entire family gathered around my father. I saw the sadness in each of their eyes. It is a moment that my mind’s picture gallery will never forget.
Before we knew it, the family waiting room was filled with people paying their respects to us. Most of them were friends with my Uncle Jay, Janee and Bube and Pop-Pop, so there were lots of introductions. However, my heart lit up when a friend of mine appeared in the line. Noelle gave me a familiar hug which at that moment was needed more than she’ll ever know. Noelle had relocated to FL a few years ago and lived about an hour north of my grandparents. When she learned my father died and that there would be a FL service, she told me to keep her updated. I didn’t expect to see her there because she has two little ones and a husband with a very crazy work schedule. Though, she made it. It meant so much to me to have the support of a good friend on such a difficult day.
The line of greeters was dwindling and it was time to start the service and move back into the sanctuary. It was different from the one in Baltimore. Behind the podium were French doors which looked out into a courtyard with trees. As we entered, I noticed the overcast skies and how the wind blew the trees around at a steady pace. We sat in the front row and the Rabbi took the podium. He spoke and then invited my sisters and I to read our Eulogy again. After we spoke, members of my family said a few words. My cousin Jordan spoke and my Uncle Jay’s wife, Janee, spoke on my behalf of my Bube. Finally, my dad’s youngest brother (Uncle Jay) and twin brother (Uncle Ed) spoke. After everyone concluded speaking, the Rabbi began again. He said the line, “Howard is with his keeper now” and with that, the skies let up. Rain streaks filled the outside of the French doors at a rapid pace. Raindrops got bigger and bigger and before we knew it, the rains outside became torrential and the service was over.
We were on a strict timeline at the cemetery because of other funerals but when we stepped outside, we knew we’d be late. Since we were having the burial at a Veteran’s cemetery, we had a motorcade from the funeral home to the cemetery. The men couldn’t ride motorcycles and escort us safely in these rains so we were held up almost 30 minutes. As we sat in the car and listened to the rain pound on the roof while we waited, we joked that Dad wasn’t quite ready to go to the cemetery just yet.
Just as quickly as the rains came on, they stopped. It cleared enough for us to begin our drive. Since it was a slow motorcade, it felt like it took forever to get there. We were quiet in the car and definitely anxious. Before long we were pulling into this beautiful green landscaped area at the cemetery. I was impressed with how pretty and neatly kept this place was. There were plants and American flags everywhere. It was clean and welcoming. When we stepped out of the car, I noticed how quiet and peaceful it was too. I thought to myself, Dad will be happy here.
At this cemetery, they don’t do the burial service at the actual plot. Instead, they took us to this small covered pavilion. On the path up to the pavilion my family was saluted by a few members of the National Guard which was an intense moment. We all gathered in the pavilion while I stood up in front with the Rabbi since I asked to read a short prayer. It was then that I saw the side of my Dad’s coffin with two stickers placed on it. One read: Howard L. Shorr, the other read: DOB: 5/2/50, DOD: 11/2/09. A pit feeling filled my stomach. Reading those stickers was just another thing that made this all more real and final.
Once we were all gathered, Taps began to play. I always associated this song with the old computer game of Hangman that I used to play growing up. While it was being played, I couldn’t help but think how much I’d rather be hearing this after losing a game of hangman. I wished so badly I wasn’t hearing it because I lost my father instead.
Since we were late to the cemetery, they were rushing us which I wasn’t thrilled about. I was first told there wasn’t even enough time for me to read my short prayer which upset me. In the end, the rabbi insisted to the cemetery director that I read it. The prayer that I wanted to read was special for a few reasons. First, it is beautiful and appropriate. Second, it was read earlier in the year at a memorial service for Silas Orion, the son of our good friends Chris and Lani. Silas entered the world on 9/25/08 and left 10 hours later which devastated us all. In May, Chris and Lani held a tree planting ceremony at their local park in New Haven, CT. They planted a beautiful maple and sprinkled some of his ashes into the soil. Chris read the Hopi’s Prayer of the Soul’s Graduation which I heard for the first time, then. It was heart wrenching. It was beautiful and perfect. As soon as I found out there would be a burial service for Dad, I asked if I could read something short there. I knew immediately that I had to read that same Hopi prayer. As we stood under the pavilion, the wind picked up and the rain started again, hard. It was pounding up on the tin roof of the pavilion so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. I remember saying in my head, “Dad, make the rain stop! I want to read this prayer for you and I want everyone to hear it!!!” Time was precious since the next service was waiting and I was afraid with the rain not letting up I wouldn’t be able to read. All of the sudden, it slowed. It was still loud and I knew I had to really speak up, but what followed still gives me the chills. I began to read...
HOPI PRAYER of The Soul's Graduation:
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight
On the ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.
My Spirit is still alive…
At the part where I read “I am a thousand winds that blow”, the wind gusted all around us. At the part where I read “I am the gentle Autumn's rain”, the rain blew in sideways, sprinkling us all. Now, I don’t believe in coincidences. I knew Dad was making his presence known there. I barely got through the poem with my shaky, crying voice but I did it. It was beautiful and I knew Dad would have appreciated it.
The Rabbi said his final prayer and the flag was taken off of Dad’s casket. The national guardsmen began to fold the flag with extreme precision. It was folded perfectly into a triangle and presented to my grandparents. There wasn’t a dry eye while this was happening. They saluted my grandparents and the service was over. We all got a little bit of soil from Israel to sprinkle on Dad’s casket. I kissed my hand, touched the casket, said in my head “Dad, I love you, rest in peace!” and walked away. It was time to go and I didn’t look back. Dad was at his new home and I knew he’d be eternally comfortable there.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Happy Birthday to me!
I was fast asleep at 3:34am this morning when I turned 32 years young. When I woke up, I was grateful for another day and another year. Jimmy had gone to get us coffee and I was cuddling with the dog in bed. I could see the bright blue skies and the sunlight through the window in the room. Besides the gusty cold wind that was blowing everything around, I could tell it was going to be a beautiful day at the Jersey Shore.
We traveled to Wildwood Crest, NJ last night and will be spending a few days here at my mom and stepdad's shore house. I always enjoy being in this town during the off season and especially around my birthday. It is always decorated for the holidays and is very festive, but is quiet and peaceful. This year is no different, though, I still haven't caught the holiday spirit bug and I'm not sure if I will. I appreciate the festiveness, the lights, decorations and other people's holiday cheer. Though this year, I think I just want to be a spectator. I don't really want to participate. Then I take a step back from those thoughts and think, I can't live my life like that. It is about living in the moment, being present, enjoying it all and being grateful for it all. I still enjoy life and want to continue enjoying life. For the most part, I can say I do but when my moments creep in, they take over. A friend who has suffered a great loss herself wrote me an email a few days ago after reading my blog. She stressed how important it is to feel those feelings when they creep in. She wrote about how it is also important to not judge your thoughts and feelings as they come up. Let them come, feel them and then let them go - all in the time frame that feels right. When I think about it, I know she's right.
I had an emotional night leading up to my birthday last night and wasn't sure what to expect when I actually woke up for the day. All day I was wondering when and if a moment would arise. It is my birthday afterall. It is the first birthday I'm experiencing since my Dad died a month and a half ago. I can't help but be sad that part of the reason that I am here on this earth isn't here on this earth with me anymore. I think about how I'll never be able to have my Dad wish me a Happy Birthday again and that makes me sad, too. But as Dad would say, it is what it is.
So, during some greeting card reading this afternoon my moment came. Jimmy's card to me was very sweet, like they all are, but just a few things he said made me tear up. Before I knew it, the faucets were in full force....out of nowhere, for many reasons. It was necessary. I needed to feel those tears at that moment and then let them pass....and they did. Hey, its my birthday, I can cry if I want to, right?
We traveled to Wildwood Crest, NJ last night and will be spending a few days here at my mom and stepdad's shore house. I always enjoy being in this town during the off season and especially around my birthday. It is always decorated for the holidays and is very festive, but is quiet and peaceful. This year is no different, though, I still haven't caught the holiday spirit bug and I'm not sure if I will. I appreciate the festiveness, the lights, decorations and other people's holiday cheer. Though this year, I think I just want to be a spectator. I don't really want to participate. Then I take a step back from those thoughts and think, I can't live my life like that. It is about living in the moment, being present, enjoying it all and being grateful for it all. I still enjoy life and want to continue enjoying life. For the most part, I can say I do but when my moments creep in, they take over. A friend who has suffered a great loss herself wrote me an email a few days ago after reading my blog. She stressed how important it is to feel those feelings when they creep in. She wrote about how it is also important to not judge your thoughts and feelings as they come up. Let them come, feel them and then let them go - all in the time frame that feels right. When I think about it, I know she's right.
I had an emotional night leading up to my birthday last night and wasn't sure what to expect when I actually woke up for the day. All day I was wondering when and if a moment would arise. It is my birthday afterall. It is the first birthday I'm experiencing since my Dad died a month and a half ago. I can't help but be sad that part of the reason that I am here on this earth isn't here on this earth with me anymore. I think about how I'll never be able to have my Dad wish me a Happy Birthday again and that makes me sad, too. But as Dad would say, it is what it is.
So, during some greeting card reading this afternoon my moment came. Jimmy's card to me was very sweet, like they all are, but just a few things he said made me tear up. Before I knew it, the faucets were in full force....out of nowhere, for many reasons. It was necessary. I needed to feel those tears at that moment and then let them pass....and they did. Hey, its my birthday, I can cry if I want to, right?
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Eternally Comfortable - Part 1
It was decided after Dad died that there would be two memorial services for him. The first would take place in Pikesville, Maryland on Wednesday, November 4. The second would take place on Monday, November 9 in Boynton Beach, FL. Following the second service in Florida, we would travel to a Veteran’s Cemetery to have Dad put to rest there.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jimmy and I arrived in Maryland the night before the November 4th service and got to spend time with my stepmom and sisters. My sisters and I decided that we wanted to read something at Dad’s service so we spent most of the night working on our eulogy. We took more of a comedic approach. Dad definitely would have wanted it that way. He was a jokester, alright.
Surprisingly, I slept well the night before the funeral. I was certainly exhausted at the end of each night so when it was bedtime, I would promptly pass out. Getting ready for the service on Wednesday morning was surreal. It was quiet at the house as we all got ourselves showered and dressed. I kept thinking in my mind "I can't believe I'm going to my father's funeral today". Much like my first blog entry, the thought that my Dad had died still swirled around in my head. The thought hadn't stuck there yet and with each swirl it became more and more incomprehensible.
After we were ready, we all piled into the car and headed to the hotel nearby to pick up my Bube and Pop-Pop. As any parent would, they were taking the loss of my dad, their son, very hard. I was nervous to see them for the first time though my anxiety disappeared upon our greetings and hugs. I could see sadness in both of their eyes that I have never seen before. Bube and Pop-Pop know death all too well. Bube outlived her parents and all 5 of her brothers. She’s lost nieces and nephews. Pop-Pop lost both of his parents at a very young age and was raised by his older sister. He later suffered the loss of his sister which was his only living relative left. During the days I spent with them following Dad’s death, they didn’t really say much. Though at one point, Pop-Pop turned to me and said, “I lost my parents at a young age, I lost my sister, but I should have never lost my son.” It was heartbreaking.
We got to the synagogue early and were taken into a family waiting room. We were told to stay in this room prior to the service. As people began to arrive, they could come to this room to greet us. Before people started to arrive, we were allowed to go into the sanctuary to see Dad if we wanted to. I absolutely wanted to go in there to see him. I had written that letter to him that I wanted to put in his casket, too.
As a man escorted Jimmy and I into the sanctuary I was overcome with thoughts that this would be the last time I ever saw my Dad again. It had been awhile since I had seen him and I didn’t know what to expect. As the man was opening the casket for us, I remember covering my mouth in disbelief that I was actually seeing my father in there. My first thought was how peaceful he looked lying there. He looked just like how my Dad looked. It looked like he was just taking a nap, in fact. He looked comfortable, too. At any moment, we were waiting for him to pop up, say “BOO” and scare us! That’s definitely something Dad would have done….but he didn’t. No BOO’s. He was still and peaceful and dead. I finally saw it with my own eyes. It was death like I had never seen before and it was real. No matter how many times my mind asked me the question, what I was seeing was real. He really was gone.
My stepmom, sisters and I had talked about what to bury him in. Instantly, we all agreed on what he would have wanted. He wasn't a tux or a suit guy to Bube’s dismay. Had anyone buried him in that attire, I know he would have been eternally uncomfortable. Anyone who knew my Dad knew he lived in his 'coveralls'. They were overalls to us, of course, but to Dad they were coveralls. Since it was hard for him to get around and carry things, his coveralls stood as his personal storage to keep whatever he might have needed at any time in those pockets. He was just comfortable in his coveralls. He owned a few pairs, too. Dad also lived in his Vietnam Veterans hat. He served in the Army from 1969-1971 and was such a proud vet that he almost never left the house without that hat.
We saw it appropriate to make sure Dad was eternally comfortable – Vietnam hat, coveralls, button down flannel shirt, white sneakers. Don’t forget the Swiss army knife in his coverall pocket – he never went anywhere without a pocket knife!
My time in the sanctuary with Dad was emotional but necessary. I said what I needed to say, left the letter and left any regrets and guilt there too. I was ready to move forward, I was ready to get this service over with.
First, we were greeted by more family and friends who came to pay their respects before the service. At a point it was totally overwhelming. Bube’s sobs still echo in all of our minds when she saw my Uncle Ed for the first time. Dad and Uncle Ed were identical twins and unless you knew them, you couldn't tell them apart. When Uncle Ed walked into the family waiting room, Bube grabbed him, sobbed and held onto him for dear life. My Uncle Ed is my grandparent’s only connection to Dad besides my sisters and I and during that moment, Bube wasn’t letting go. It is a moment I will never forget being a witness to.
My grandparents, stepmom, sister and a family friend had sat with the rabbi the day before answering all sorts of questions about Dad. The Rabbi did a really beautiful job during the service recapping my Dad’s life with the information he gathered. He talked of my father being born a twin. Dad and Uncle Ed were identical twins and mirror images of each other. A few years later, my other Uncle Jay was born. My dad and his brothers were close growing up and got into all sorts of mischief together. The Shorr boys definitely had a reputation. We still aren’t allowed to hear some of the stories they were involved in growing up.
Dad graduated high school and went to a technical trade school for HVAC. He later got drafted to Vietnam where he served almost two full years. After he returned from Vietnam, he started up a heating and air conditioning business with his twin brother. Around this time, he met my mom Bonnie. They had me and a few years later, they divorced. Dad moved to Maryland a few years after that and met my stepmom, Holly. They married and had my two sisters, Rebecca and Rachael. Dad continued his career in HVAC until a spinal cord surgery in 1997. Since then, he had numerous health problems, surgeries, knee replacements and the list goes on. Even though he suffered physically because his body was failing him, he faced each day with whatever it took.
The Rabbi spoke of his love for his hobbies – fishing and airplanes. He also spoke of his love for his family. After he finished, he called on my sisters and I to read our eulogy. We each took turns reading different parts. We added to it to read at the second service as well. This is it in its entirety:
JENNIE:
Our father was... something else. For those of you who knew him, you know exactly what we're talking about.
He was a tchotchke man who loved selling windmills and puzzle rings on eBay. He had no problem leaving shreds of metal on the carpet as he carefully constructed his soda can airplanes and helicopters. In case you ever needed a flashlight, a watch, a Swiss army knife, keys to anything, or a piece of wood carved into your name, he was your guy.
He was supposed to move to FL on the day that he passed away so his stuff was packed up and shipped there to await his arrival. After he passed, his possessions were shipped back to Maryland where we got the opportunity to sort through his treasures. We came across some amazing special items, antiques, photos and writings that are priceless. However, the amount of 'crap' he kept was unreal. Let's face it, our dad was a packrat. Through the tears, we laughed as we sorted through lose change, pens that didn't work anymore, receipts from 1983, multiple rubber band balls and more extension cords that one would know what to do with. He was also a sucker for those collectors coins that you saw advertised on TV. Though, one catalog he received and saved that we feel summed up his love for tchotchke was "Things You Never Knew Existed". Somehow, our father knew these things existed.
REBECCA:
I helped him clean out his desk the other day and being a tchotchke man, he didn't want to throw a thing away. I, on the other hand, wanted to throw everything away. At one point, he held up a piece of wire, looked me right in the eye and said, "Becca, I don't know what this is but I'm keeping it." As we continued to dig through these so-called treasures, he found the prize for the day: A harmonica with an instructional DVD. We looked at each other and I had to ask. "Are you REALLY going to keep that?" He looked at me like I was crazy. Who was I to suggest that he throw out a perfectly good harmonica and instructional DVD?!
JENNIE:
On Thursday, when the moving truck arrived with his treasures, the weather was painfully beautiful. It was a perfect fall day. The sunshine was bright and the air was cool, crisp and very still. The movers began loading box upon box into the driveway for us to sort through. Minutes after starting to go through his treasures and while tossing the junk, the wind picked up. The leaves were swirling around everywhere, the wind gusts were strong, a chill came through the air and the sky suddenly turned dark right above the house. Rain drops began drizzling all over as we scrambled to move all of the boxes into the garage so they didn't get wet. We couldn't believe that the beautiful day changed within minutes. We justified this moment by saying Dad was doing everything possible to prevent us from tossing his most prized possessions into the dumpster. His eating habits were unique to him. Black coffee. Ring dings. Good-n-plenty. Bube's famous jelly roll and swirl cake. And he ALWAYS asked for more matzoh balls.
REBECCA:
As a father, he sure gave us some interesting advice. As an overprotective dad, Jennie was the first to receive a cell phone in a bag. Now this was before my time and cost about $2 per minute - a phone only to be used in emergencies. Rach and I received some pepper spray. "Just in case," he'd say. Yeah right. A gust of wind would probably blow, knocking either one of us out, leaving our attacker to grab our purses and run. The thought was there, the execution was just a little off. We all heard childhood stories about Dad and his brothers getting into trouble. We were reminded to NEVER partake in activities like these. We were never allowed to blow up a water fountain at school with a homemade bomb or to hang what appeared to be a fake body from a flagpole. He spoke fondly of these childhood memories. Of his brothers. And his parents. Although his health issues were difficult for him at times, he never stopped loving planes, making planes or flying them. While sorting through his items, we found toy airplanes, drawings of airplanes, plans for assembling them and even his Pilot log which documented his flights from 1976 through 2007. His other hobby passion included fishing and crabbing. When Bube and Pop-Pop lived in Baltimore, Dad and Pop-Pop would bring home bushels of crabs that they caught and prepared for us. Occasionally, a crab would get loose and run across the deck, Dad always caught them. Jennie, Rachael and I really enjoyed eating the crabs they caught though none of us wanted to clean out the guts. Dad always did that for us, too.
JENNIE:
He loved cracking jokes, although they were not always appropriate. Who am I kidding? More often than not they were inappropriate. In going through his stuff, we even found multiple folders full of some of his favorite inappropriate jokes. I think it was safe to say that none of us ever knew what would come out of his mouth. He sure had an unconventional sense of humor, which made bringing our boyfriends home very interesting.
RACHAEL:
He wore his coveralls everywhere. And they were coveralls, not overalls.
He was a Vietnam veteran and proud of it, too. He always wore his Vietnam cap. He had no problem telling cops after he had been pulled over for speeding or a broken tail light that he served his time for our country. Worked like a charm every time. Those cops always came back and said, "Well sir, here's a warning and thanks for serving our country." He had a special place in his heart for the dogs. He always fed them from the table, which is perhaps why our dog, Jake, is the size of a house. Jake always knew when it was time for breakfast. Dad got coffee and krimpets. Jake got krimpets, too. The one thing that we will remember most is his advice and famous quotes. Before we'd leave the house or go somewhere, he'd say, "If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a duck." How's that for dating advice? And another one he'd say when you didn't want to take a jacket with you was, "It's better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it." That one may have gotten a few eye-rolls. When things weren't working out your way, he'd say, "If it's meant to be, it'll be." And his most famous quote of all and probably something that he would say to us on this day; "It is what it is."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After we read our parts, we sat back down and moments later, the service was over. Everyone was invited back to our good family friend’s house to sit Shiva. Since my Dad and Holly had sold the house before my Dad passed away, they had the closing scheduled for November 6. The house was in the process of being packed up and was no place to sit Shiva. Our wonderful friends, Steve and Rona, opened up their home and welcomed our family and friends. It was a really special time following the service to be surrounded by family and some friends of ours who traveled to be there. It is with their constant support and love that help us begin to find our way without Dad here with us.
To be continued……
Thursday, December 3, 2009
My Dad died, he's dead
I've had that statement run through my mind hundreds of times yet it still stops me in my tracks every time it pops up. Yesterday marked the one month anniversary of my father's passing. To think that I got the news one month ago baffles me since sometimes it feels like it's been years and other times only days. I had just come off of one of the most wonderful weekends of the year. Jimmy and I were in California seeing our favorite band, Phish, in a three day music festival. Festival 8 was filled with fantastic music, wonderful friends, good food and great hot desert weather. When I think back to that weekend, it is almost like a dream. I still don't think I've had time to process just how wonderful that weekend was since in an instant, it all changed.
The festival ended on Sunday night and during the beginning of our travels back on Monday morning, I got the life changing call from my sister that things weren't looking good with Dad. We still had the commute of flying home to get through and looking back, it will stand as the worst commute home of my life. During that 5 hour flight from California to New Jersey, I knew my Dad was only being kept alive by machines. I knew that he wouldn't survive my flight home.
I listened to my iPod the entire time and cried, hoping that I would eventually run out of tears which didn't happen. At one point, a new Phish song titled "Light" came on. I looked out the window and saw a beautiful sunset across the horizon and knew right then, that I had lost my father.
I knew right then that my Dad died, that he was dead.
Part of Light's lyrics read:
I can see the light between me and my mind
I can feel memories fall behind
And the light is growing brighter now
And the light is growing brighter now
I see the future is less and less there
And the past has vanished in the air
And I'm left in the now with a wondrous glow
I think I'm still me
But how would you know?
They were so fitting to me at the time. Now, when I hear that song I'm brought back to that moment in the plane when I knew my father died.
I spent the one month anniversary of his death at a Phish concert last night. They are playing Madison Square Garden for three nights and we were lucky enough to get tickets for each night. We returned home from Europe on Tuesday in time to get enough sleep to go right into three nights of Phish. Before last night's show, I just wasn't feeling it. I wanted to stay on my couch and wallow in my own self pity. If I learned anything from a month's worth of going and doing, its that going and doing is good for you.....even when you don't feel up to it. We headed into the city to meet up with friends who were gathering pre-show at a bar near the venue. The bar was hot and crowded. I found myself totally overwhelmed. I wanted to leave but knew I was in the right place. I just needed to give up my struggle with that moment to the Universe and my friends would take over from there. They all did and probably didn't even know it at the time. As I sat through my 73rd Phish show, I enjoyed the music but had a hard time getting out of my own head for most of the show. I can't say I totally enjoyed the show. Even though it was a great one, my head was just too strong of a force.
At 9:55pm last night, the whole month and the happenings of November came full circle to me when Phish played "Light". I choked back tears during the opening notes and allowed the song to take me where it needed. It was probably the best Light I've heard live which made it even more special. One month ago during this song, my dad died. One month later, to the minute, the same song was being played. I took it as a sign. Synchronicity has been all around me since he died and last night's song placement of Light was just another example.
The month of November was a complete whirlwind between dealing with my Dad's death and an insane amount of travel we had, too. We came home from California from the festival and headed to Maryland for 4 days for the first service. Then, we came back NJ to regroup to then head down to Florida for a 2nd service. It was back to NJ to regroup which was followed by a trip to Chicago with my mom to fulfill our life dream of seeing the Oprah show together. Then it was time to come back to NJ to regroup to head out for our big trip of the year - a 12 day trip to Spain and Holland. I think we were only home for 5 nights during the month of November. Being on the move constantly is helpful when it comes to grieving, I think. You don't really get a chance to stop and think and while I'm not sure if that is good or bad, I think its been instrumental in how I've dealt with things so far. I definitely have my moments and foresee them being around for quite sometime. I just wish they didn't come at the most inopportune times.
I am getting used to my new reality though I still think there is a lot of processing that needs to happen. I think the hardest part of this all is seeing how life continues to go on. In the grocery store, no one knows my dad just died. They go on picking out their fruits and vegetables and I go on wondering how life will go on from here. The thoughts of how I'll never hear my Dad's voice again, or smell Halston cologne on him, or hear his laugh after he tells one of his ridiculous jokes, or how he'll never remind me to change the air filters in our HVAC system or any of those little things that you just take for granted....I'll never get to experience them again. I try not to let my mind wander there too often because its too hard to think about those moments. Funny enough, I hear my Dad's voice in my head a lot. He'll say silly things to me. I guess it is comforting knowing he is still 'here'. His spirit is definitely with me and watching over me, but its going to take some getting used to how things have to be now.
I also try not to let my mind wonder to the 'what if's" and unfortunately there are many what ifs. I loved my father and he knew it, yet sometimes he had a difficult way of showing his love. He battled his life's demons up until the very end and while my father led a very difficult life, it helped to paint the picture of the man he was.
In March of this year, I traveled to Sedona, AZ and had a spiritual awakening. I had realizations about myself that I was finally able to confront and change in order for me to keep moving forward. One of the things I needed most was some space from my Dad. We had a rough patch with communication and giving each other what we needed. It was because of this that I needed some time and space from him. He understood and told me he'd give me all of the time and space I needed. We hadn't spoken in months and in August I got a call from him. He called to let me know my sisters had been in a car accident and while they were ok, this was another life lesson that life is just too short. He wanted to know if I was ready to bring him back into my life. He called our distance "silliness". I had very valid reasons why I needed space and at that time I wasn't ready to just make amends and forgive him. I told him I wasn't ready yet and sadly, that was the last time I spoke to my father.
I constantly think back to that moment - had I known he would die months later, it never would have ended like it did. However, I know what I did was right for me at the time and that is something I must remember. The positive thing from all of this is that I do not carry guilt around with me. On the morning of his first service in Maryland, I wrote him a five page letter saying everything I needed to say and everything that I'd never be able to say to him again. When they took me in to see him laying peacefully in his casket, I tucked the letter in his arm, touched his face and told him finally, "I love you and forgive you, Dad". It was a powerful moment that brought peace to me during one of the most painful times of my life. I let the guilt go right then and there and vowed to myself never to look back at why I had made some choices I did. Dad loved me and knew why I had to do what I did. He knew I loved him too and looking back I now realize that he did the best he could. I take comfort in the fact of knowing that Dad is out of pain now and that he no longer will struggle with what life had dealt him.
While my family and I would agree that he left us all way too soon, I know he is in a better place now.
The festival ended on Sunday night and during the beginning of our travels back on Monday morning, I got the life changing call from my sister that things weren't looking good with Dad. We still had the commute of flying home to get through and looking back, it will stand as the worst commute home of my life. During that 5 hour flight from California to New Jersey, I knew my Dad was only being kept alive by machines. I knew that he wouldn't survive my flight home.
I listened to my iPod the entire time and cried, hoping that I would eventually run out of tears which didn't happen. At one point, a new Phish song titled "Light" came on. I looked out the window and saw a beautiful sunset across the horizon and knew right then, that I had lost my father.
I knew right then that my Dad died, that he was dead.
Part of Light's lyrics read:
I can see the light between me and my mind
I can feel memories fall behind
And the light is growing brighter now
And the light is growing brighter now
I see the future is less and less there
And the past has vanished in the air
And I'm left in the now with a wondrous glow
I think I'm still me
But how would you know?
They were so fitting to me at the time. Now, when I hear that song I'm brought back to that moment in the plane when I knew my father died.
I spent the one month anniversary of his death at a Phish concert last night. They are playing Madison Square Garden for three nights and we were lucky enough to get tickets for each night. We returned home from Europe on Tuesday in time to get enough sleep to go right into three nights of Phish. Before last night's show, I just wasn't feeling it. I wanted to stay on my couch and wallow in my own self pity. If I learned anything from a month's worth of going and doing, its that going and doing is good for you.....even when you don't feel up to it. We headed into the city to meet up with friends who were gathering pre-show at a bar near the venue. The bar was hot and crowded. I found myself totally overwhelmed. I wanted to leave but knew I was in the right place. I just needed to give up my struggle with that moment to the Universe and my friends would take over from there. They all did and probably didn't even know it at the time. As I sat through my 73rd Phish show, I enjoyed the music but had a hard time getting out of my own head for most of the show. I can't say I totally enjoyed the show. Even though it was a great one, my head was just too strong of a force.
At 9:55pm last night, the whole month and the happenings of November came full circle to me when Phish played "Light". I choked back tears during the opening notes and allowed the song to take me where it needed. It was probably the best Light I've heard live which made it even more special. One month ago during this song, my dad died. One month later, to the minute, the same song was being played. I took it as a sign. Synchronicity has been all around me since he died and last night's song placement of Light was just another example.
The month of November was a complete whirlwind between dealing with my Dad's death and an insane amount of travel we had, too. We came home from California from the festival and headed to Maryland for 4 days for the first service. Then, we came back NJ to regroup to then head down to Florida for a 2nd service. It was back to NJ to regroup which was followed by a trip to Chicago with my mom to fulfill our life dream of seeing the Oprah show together. Then it was time to come back to NJ to regroup to head out for our big trip of the year - a 12 day trip to Spain and Holland. I think we were only home for 5 nights during the month of November. Being on the move constantly is helpful when it comes to grieving, I think. You don't really get a chance to stop and think and while I'm not sure if that is good or bad, I think its been instrumental in how I've dealt with things so far. I definitely have my moments and foresee them being around for quite sometime. I just wish they didn't come at the most inopportune times.
I am getting used to my new reality though I still think there is a lot of processing that needs to happen. I think the hardest part of this all is seeing how life continues to go on. In the grocery store, no one knows my dad just died. They go on picking out their fruits and vegetables and I go on wondering how life will go on from here. The thoughts of how I'll never hear my Dad's voice again, or smell Halston cologne on him, or hear his laugh after he tells one of his ridiculous jokes, or how he'll never remind me to change the air filters in our HVAC system or any of those little things that you just take for granted....I'll never get to experience them again. I try not to let my mind wander there too often because its too hard to think about those moments. Funny enough, I hear my Dad's voice in my head a lot. He'll say silly things to me. I guess it is comforting knowing he is still 'here'. His spirit is definitely with me and watching over me, but its going to take some getting used to how things have to be now.
I also try not to let my mind wonder to the 'what if's" and unfortunately there are many what ifs. I loved my father and he knew it, yet sometimes he had a difficult way of showing his love. He battled his life's demons up until the very end and while my father led a very difficult life, it helped to paint the picture of the man he was.
In March of this year, I traveled to Sedona, AZ and had a spiritual awakening. I had realizations about myself that I was finally able to confront and change in order for me to keep moving forward. One of the things I needed most was some space from my Dad. We had a rough patch with communication and giving each other what we needed. It was because of this that I needed some time and space from him. He understood and told me he'd give me all of the time and space I needed. We hadn't spoken in months and in August I got a call from him. He called to let me know my sisters had been in a car accident and while they were ok, this was another life lesson that life is just too short. He wanted to know if I was ready to bring him back into my life. He called our distance "silliness". I had very valid reasons why I needed space and at that time I wasn't ready to just make amends and forgive him. I told him I wasn't ready yet and sadly, that was the last time I spoke to my father.
I constantly think back to that moment - had I known he would die months later, it never would have ended like it did. However, I know what I did was right for me at the time and that is something I must remember. The positive thing from all of this is that I do not carry guilt around with me. On the morning of his first service in Maryland, I wrote him a five page letter saying everything I needed to say and everything that I'd never be able to say to him again. When they took me in to see him laying peacefully in his casket, I tucked the letter in his arm, touched his face and told him finally, "I love you and forgive you, Dad". It was a powerful moment that brought peace to me during one of the most painful times of my life. I let the guilt go right then and there and vowed to myself never to look back at why I had made some choices I did. Dad loved me and knew why I had to do what I did. He knew I loved him too and looking back I now realize that he did the best he could. I take comfort in the fact of knowing that Dad is out of pain now and that he no longer will struggle with what life had dealt him.
While my family and I would agree that he left us all way too soon, I know he is in a better place now.
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