August 29, 1938 - August 27, 2011
9.20.11, 1:05 AM:
I've been delaying posting in this blog that my father passed away. It's not as if not writing has made it any better in the healing. Even though every time I share it hurts, not sharing has hung with me like a weight. Finally, I need to write.
It was horrible getting the phone call from my mother in the early hours that Saturday, all I could do was weep and hold my heart. Later that day is when I had my wailing session once my husband took my daughters out of the house. I felt like my shouts were connecting to something bigger in this world, to the shared loss endless people were experiencing at that given moment. I remember grabbing a notebook to write a prayer or mantra of sorts as I dropped myself into a chair. The words sit in an evolving box of memoirs, but these are the ones that run through me and hopefully into the space of goodness:
"Sweet, Daddy spirit, set yourself free of your pain and become part of everything beautiful in this world."
I imagined that magnificent show of clouds that I had seen during one of my return flights from my parents on June 27. The view was stunning, and left me, along with my fellow window seat neighbors, in a complete state of awe. I shared my amazement with my parents upon my return, and made a print of this image for my father to see for his birthday. The print was en route as my mother shared the news, and it broke my heart that I didn't get it there in time. I have to hold onto the hope that my excitement and the words about the scene gave him a sense of the greatness and wonder. In my heart and mind, this is the beauty he is now with, and in that is reassurance and healing. It is the tribute to my father's love.