Thank you for all your kindnesses these nine days since my father passed. Your caring words and gifts and prayers have been a comfort to me, and to my mom and brother, as well. I'm so glad to be a part of this community.
Until today, I have not been sure I was going to get through this. I have not handled it well at all. Night before last, I peeled off down our residential street at 70 mph and drove like a madwoman until it struck me that I could hurt somebody. So I parked in the middle of nowhere and rolled up my windows and locked my doors and pounded the steering wheel and raged at God until I lost my voice.
All that night and all day yesterday, I rode the most horrible train of thought, an unstoppable series of the very worst memories, things that filled me with regret and self-loathing. I wanted to talk to someone, but I didn't want to worry anyone, and didn't want to tell such awful memories to anyone, either.
But then my friend Rush called -- my one-time significant other and still best friend in the world. He had driven up from Austin to be with us for the wake and funeral last Sunday and Monday, not only for my sake but also because he loved my father too, and considered him his father-in-law, even though we never married.
So Rush called last night to see how I was doing, and he got me to tell him about these racing thoughts I was having. And he listened and thought it through deeply, the way only the very truest friend will do... and he reminded me of some things from long ago, and helped me see the true meaning of more recent things, and led me to interpret so much of it differently... and somehow he got me off that train of thought. He discredited that train of thought.
Somehow, Rush made me see that my father absolutely did know how dearly I loved him... and that turned out to be the thing I needed so badly. Just to know he knew.
It's never going to stop hurting, I know that, but I feel like I've reached some kind of balance point now, where what I still have of my father is almost as good as what I've lost.
So I'm telling you this because I want to say a couple of things that might be helpful to somebody:
1. Nobody is perfect, not even the people we love the most, and not ourselves, either. But there are very few faults so great that they should keep us from forgiving one another, or ourselves. Some of us have more to give than others... but as long as we're doing the best we can, we deserve forgiveness.
2. If you love somebody, you need to say so... and if it's not customary in your family to do that, change the custom. I did it when I was about 24 -- just started being unabashedly affectionate in spite of the eye-rollings it got me -- and our family gradually became sort of aw-shucks sentimental instead of arm's-length formal. And because of that, I had almost three whole decades of I love you, Papas that I am so grateful for now.
3. If you have a true, deep friend like my friend Rush, you have a priceless treasure. A friend like that can literally save your life. Go give that person a great big hug next chance you get.
Sorry to pontificate so... but I feel like I've lived a hundred years in these nine days. A lot on my mind, I guess. Thanks for listening.
Until today, I have not been sure I was going to get through this. I have not handled it well at all. Night before last, I peeled off down our residential street at 70 mph and drove like a madwoman until it struck me that I could hurt somebody. So I parked in the middle of nowhere and rolled up my windows and locked my doors and pounded the steering wheel and raged at God until I lost my voice.
All that night and all day yesterday, I rode the most horrible train of thought, an unstoppable series of the very worst memories, things that filled me with regret and self-loathing. I wanted to talk to someone, but I didn't want to worry anyone, and didn't want to tell such awful memories to anyone, either.
But then my friend Rush called -- my one-time significant other and still best friend in the world. He had driven up from Austin to be with us for the wake and funeral last Sunday and Monday, not only for my sake but also because he loved my father too, and considered him his father-in-law, even though we never married.
So Rush called last night to see how I was doing, and he got me to tell him about these racing thoughts I was having. And he listened and thought it through deeply, the way only the very truest friend will do... and he reminded me of some things from long ago, and helped me see the true meaning of more recent things, and led me to interpret so much of it differently... and somehow he got me off that train of thought. He discredited that train of thought.
Somehow, Rush made me see that my father absolutely did know how dearly I loved him... and that turned out to be the thing I needed so badly. Just to know he knew.
It's never going to stop hurting, I know that, but I feel like I've reached some kind of balance point now, where what I still have of my father is almost as good as what I've lost.
So I'm telling you this because I want to say a couple of things that might be helpful to somebody:
1. Nobody is perfect, not even the people we love the most, and not ourselves, either. But there are very few faults so great that they should keep us from forgiving one another, or ourselves. Some of us have more to give than others... but as long as we're doing the best we can, we deserve forgiveness.
2. If you love somebody, you need to say so... and if it's not customary in your family to do that, change the custom. I did it when I was about 24 -- just started being unabashedly affectionate in spite of the eye-rollings it got me -- and our family gradually became sort of aw-shucks sentimental instead of arm's-length formal. And because of that, I had almost three whole decades of I love you, Papas that I am so grateful for now.
3. If you have a true, deep friend like my friend Rush, you have a priceless treasure. A friend like that can literally save your life. Go give that person a great big hug next chance you get.
Sorry to pontificate so... but I feel like I've lived a hundred years in these nine days. A lot on my mind, I guess. Thanks for listening.
