I have been writing and rewritting this probably because I'm not happy about the way its coming out. Throughout the process of lossing my father I experienced a lot of things. The death of my father, The rebirth of my self. Piecing back my family together after his death.
Every little thing counts when you lose someone of that magnitude. You realize how important memories are. I've never understood the greeting card business but when he died and the flood of cards came in I read them all. I especially enjoyed the one's from his classmates, the one's that were handmade and contained messages from people. I was even more touched by the humanity of the hospital staff who took care of my father and when they let us know we were not forgotten. I believe our spirits filled the MICU ward at the hospital while we were there and I even became friends with one of my father's doctors.
Every little thing counts. I remember sitting in the hospital with my brother when he finally arrived and said, "why do people say I"m sorry." What the HELL does that mean? Ok, yes, maybe you truly are sorry but so what? That doesn't change anything. Be real. Be there. What I enjoyed hearing were stories about my father from classmates and what he was like before we came along. Don't say meaningless things and remember the energy you bring with you to the terminally ill. My father's death impacted a lot of people. Classmates who never thought he would be next. My dad was out living everyone it just goes to prove you never know.
My family did not want a funeral in the beginning. My mom was against it and I let it go. She eventually came around and we planned a small gravesite service. My father lived in colorado the last five years of his life. While he was happy and we were ok with it we still only saw him twice a year. One of my biggest regrets is not going there more often. My father's illness almost seemed surreal when i returned home. it was because there was no service yet. I still felt like he was in colorado and everything was fine. But there was always something to remind you that it wasn't. A phone call,
a sympathy card....
My mom was willing to plan a funeral and so the journey began. It was hard going to the mortuary to plan his funeral. THAT made it real too. For some reason we had to take a drive up to where the site was and in the back of my mind there was some peace....because my brother who passed now had his father. I remember going up to the graveyard and there is another family next to my brother, and as time passed, more and more family members joined them and it was kind of sad. The son died first (but he was around my dad's age then), then the parents joined him. I noticed there were fresh flowers so they must have realized someone passed in our family.
What will all make this real is the plaque we ordered for him. It is a double plaque because my mother is supposed to be there. Then it will all come home again.
I hope none of you experience the loss of a parent any time soon. Remember
EVERY LITTLE THING COUNTS.
