i've lost a father. my dad. pop.
but as i sit here and think about it, what i've really lost is the one person who has been there for me my entire life.
he certainly didn't know about everything i've done, yet knew more than he let on to. his advise wasn't sought with every problem, but he was there if i wanted it. never did he say "i'm there if you need me" -- i just knew.
a couple people have asked in round about ways, and i think i can say with all honestly -- i have closure. nothing was left unresolved. there is no guilt. without a doubt i wish i could have been more successful, sooner, and able to make his twilight years more comfortable and stress free. it just didn't work out that way and of all the people in this world, i know he'd understand.
maybe it's just me, but having now spent a couple days at the office, i wish people that don't really know me would simply not mention my father's passing. there is really no point and it makes me feel awkward trying to respond. a simple "glad to see you back" is more than ample. it acknowledges that i was gone. it was no secret as to why. i simply don't like feeling like i have to share something with you.
if you want to share with me your experience having lost a parent or perhaps have one battling cancer... i'm all good with that and am all good with sharing stories and experiences. it is just the words of courtesy that grate on me. "i'm sorry to hear about your loss". yeah, yeah, yeah. whatever. i lost my dad, he lost his life, you lost my attention. /sigh
one colleague lost both of his parents in the past few years, so he "got it" and shared with brutal honesty. he said to me "takes about a year and you'll be pretty numb the first month, but it does get better."
crossing the bay at sunrise and boarding a plane heading east my journey began -- like andrew large in the movie garden state, i eventually found myself 3,000 miles away and a bit stunned to be in my hometown after a lengthy absence. it became increasingly similar when i learned i would not be there to provide support in making health care decisions for my father, but rather to plan and attend his funeral.
fifteen hours separated me from seeing him alive for one last time. i've forgiven myself. in his last days he was emaciated and frail as the cancer overtook him and while it may sound uncaring and selfish, i'm thankful that when i close my eyes a much stronger and proud man lives on in my mind's eye.
as my father's flag drapped casket was moved to the gravesite, rather than watch it slowly make its way, i closed my eyes and listened to the cadence in their steps as they drew near -- left, left, left. and then they were here, gently placing the coffin and taking their positions for the honors ceremony.
the first crack of the gunfire by the honor guard jolted even those of us mentally prepared for that moment. three sounds, twenty one rounds and then i found i wasn't completely prepared. a bugle was raised and taps permeated the air as i tried to catch my breath and remain strong and comfort my mother. damn it, i thought, as the sound surrounded me. i forgot all about taps. blame the instrument, accuse the notes, but when taps is played for your father it will penetrate the thickest of skin and far deeper than the nails you've dug into yourself up to that point.
the bearer's returned to remove the flag and ceremoniously fold it into the distinctive triangle one is used to seeing. their movements where sudden and sharp. i can still hear them snap into position as well as the sound of their white gloves brushing firmly against the flag as they tightly folded it into position. eventually, the final salutes and the commander, on one knee, presented my mother with the flag which moments ago layed over the casket of her deceased husband. he thanked her for my father's service and dedication before returning to formation and leading the honor guard away.
the remainder of my days were spent sorting through my fathers financial affairs, a subject which could be the source of future posts. the evenings were spent with long time childhood friends -- people that i haven't seen in many years. what is amazing is how you can be away from some people for so long yet within minutes it was like they were always there. and i suppose in some sense they always were. and always will be. and that is comforting.
In Memory
1944 - 2007