Author's Note: Several years ago I was invited to share a guest post for a blog that explored living after a loved one has died. Linda Della Donna is the author of A Gift of Love: A Widow's Memoir and it was her Griefnet blog, which she has since abandoned. So I thought it would be fun to share that guest post here with you! When I wrote this post I didn't have a blog of my own, and now I do. When I wrote this post I had not yet published my book, now I have. That's pretty wonderful, all things considered!
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| Me and my dad |
Lessons from My Dad: Accepting the Baton and Running with it
When we discovered that my dad had one year or less to live,
I packed my kids into the car and we headed from Texas to California, where the
majority of my family is, and where my dad wanted to spend most of his
remaining time. I enrolled my boys in school once we got to Cali so that we
would be enjoying life with as much normalcy as possible, not just sitting
around and staring at my slowly deteriorating dad. We stayed with my mom (who
was divorced from my father but remained his best friend) and so did my dad.
Between my sister, mom, and I we all changed bandages, talked him through pain,
laughed, cried, and explored fears together. When my dad went to Buffalo, NY for
IL2 treatments in hopes of beating the cancer, my mom and I took turns going
with him while my sister (who was pregnant with twins and could not fly) wrote
the daily report and emailed all of my dad’s friends and family. For the last
three months of his life my dad was in Canada with my two younger brothers and
his other ex-wife, who then took care of him until he was admitted into
hospice. My mom and sister (who had given birth to two lovely little ladies by
then!)
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| My sister, my dad, and one of the twins. |
Before dad died he agreed with us that in lieu of a
traditional funeral, he would be best remembered at a family gathering flowing
with coffee and laughter. My dad’s happiest moments—and indeed he spent all
other moments contriving such gatherings!—were when family was together,
watching our children play and gabbing over never-ending cups of coffee.
After my dad died I was going through my desk, which had
been his, and found an outline to the book he wanted to write. Dad and I had
often talked about the novels we wanted to write and why.
We also shared
justifications, fears and excuses for not writing. Finding dad’s outline did
more than remind me that if I didn’t go ahead and begin the books, my ideas, and
characters—whom I had come to love—would one day die with me. It also brought
back how much time we had spent feeding our fears and justifying our
justifications. I realized that we hadn’t been merely procrastinating, but had
actually been creating a bigger and bigger mess to navigate when it came time
to put pen to paper; or finger to keyboard. That ‘aha’ moment breathed life
into a belief in myself, as well as the characters I had come to love, living
in my mind waiting until I was ready to tell their story!
My dad’s death offered me another important insight. When
dad learned he was going to die, he had some unresolved issues with old
workmates and friends. Things he felt needed to be said if he wanted to leave
this world unencumbered and with a light heart. Unfortunately, one of the
people he wanted desperately to make peace with was unavailable, and so my dad
did the best he could and made peace with himself. He was left feeling
unsatisfied. Not because he hadn’t been forgiven by the other person, but
because he hadn’t been able to express himself at all. This is a reminder to me
that we should take care of these unresolved feelings as soon as we know that
they are there. We’ve all made mistakes. We have all screwed somebody over or
treated someone poorly. I think it’s a healthy exercise to make amends when
there is life in our step and children we are being examples for. It isn’t so
that we can be forgiven by others, but so that we can know we stepped up and
accepted ourselves.
My dad procrastinated and lived with the desire to step up.
I’ve decided to always step up, and live with the desire to run ahead!
I was asked recently what I consider to be the greatest way
to remember a loved one. I loved the question and the excuse to articulate an
answer! I think the greatest way to remember a loved one is to love. Love life,
love people, love desperation, love challenge, love music, love pain, love
laughter. Love. The alternate is a fear of love. A fear of being hoodwinked, of
loss, of good times turning bad. If death teaches us one thing it’s that good
times sometimes do turn bad, we will lose and feel pain, so LOVE in the meantime!
When I think of my dad I remember with a smile, and live
with love. I think he’d like that!
Hugs, smiles, and love!!
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| My mom and dad, bringing up a family together as the best of friends. |
