Wait, what?!?
Has it really been 14 years since that heart-stopping, gut-turning, life-altering phone call came through? Has it really been 14 years since I was just a naive 10th grader without a clue of what true pain meant; until this stormy Monday night? I was only 16. My world had consisted of what my weekend plans were going to be, if my looser-of-a-boyfriend was ever going to call me back, what the note from my friend passed between science and study hall said, where I could park at school so no one would see me exiting out of the passenger side of the truck because my door handle from the inside wouldn't work. No, no I had no idea what it meant to have big-girl problems. But Monday, March 13th I grew up; a lot, and quickly.
We had driven to the hospital not knowing the worst was yet to come. My mom and I were still hopeful. Praying and pleading that my dad would be ok when we got there. Unfortunately we were put into one of those tiny rooms that no one wants to ever set foot in. The room that's just big enough for immediate family. The room with walls so bare all you can do is look at the ground or the ceiling and you don't dare look at each other because if you do, you will see it. You will see in each others eyes what the other is thinking, and that it will confirm that you are thinking the same thing. Then it happened. The heartless nurse waltzed in and announced exactly what we were praying and pleading we wouldn't have to hear.
All I could think and say was "He's in Heaven now. He's in Heaven now. He's in Heaven now. He's in Heaven now." And then I sat in the hall of the hospital and bawled my eyeballs out.
Where do you go from there? Sometimes it seems so surreal that I went thru such tragic loss. And sometimes it feels like yesterday. It's amazing the details you remember when you go through something like that, but yet the memory of what everyday life around him was like has faded. His voice is fading, his laugh is fading. Yet some memories are so real I can close my eyes and almost be in that moment with him. At the house he grew up in on West Virginia soil- making colby-jack toasted bread in the toaster oven and walking out to the pond listening to old mountaineer stories. Sitting out on the front porch and watching the trains go by, heading into "town" for dinner at one of the only two restaurants. Helping with the family reunions that he so dearly loved, being so proud to watch him stand up and talk about family like there was nothing else in the world. Being handed a roll of quarters to play games in the arcade at the reunion resort and being told not to spend it all at once. Having him ask me "Hey wanna go for a ride?"(in his truck) and somehow always ending up at the Steak and Shake drive-thru for a strawberry milkshake, and having him offer a nickel for my thoughts on the way home. Going to school late at night with him to prep the donuts and orange juice to sell in the morning. And probably one of my favorites; going to his office to eat lunch with him (or to use his TV when he was out ;) and finding notes from him in my lunch that I had left in his fridge.
There are more memories; specific ones like above. But honestly the everyday memory is gone. And that's ok. We are human. We are not made to remember everything. Life goes on and we make new memories, but we hold fast to those big ones, specific ones that never escape our mind bank. As I was saying to my friend recently, just because their memory fades, doesn't mean we love them any less. It doesn't mean we miss them any less. I miss my dad just as much now as I did that dark and stormy Monday-night-before-pi-day (as a math teacher, it was one of his favorite day's at school).
I hate that I can't imagine what it would be like to have him here right this second. To sit on the couch with me and tell me it's going to be ok. I don't know what it would be like to see him interact with my children, other then the fact I know there would be a lot of giggling going on! But dwelling on that too long doesn't do any one any good. I've learned to be thankful to having even known him and the joy he brought to others. Just because I don't spend everyday of my life sad and angry doesn't mean I don't love him or miss him any less then I already do. It's just that I've decided to choose the other path. The one where I know he's in Heaven. I know he's praising God, and what better place to be?!? My humanly desire is to have him here with me and my family, with my children and one day their children, but my soul is thankful that he knew and believed in the One who is mighty to save! Thankful that one day we will meet again. I know it's easy for people to use this whole idea as a "way out" of their sadness, but I truly believe it. I can still hear his deep voice singing "It Is Well With My Soul". What an amazing song and story; Horatio Spafford wrote it while passing over the same spot where his four daughters died in a voyage to Europe. He had also lost two 4 year old sons (at different times in life) to scarlet fever. If he can get through that, then I can get through my past trials and help my friends through their current one.
14 years feels like a lifetime; and technically it is. There's my life before I lost my dad, and my life after. I've now lived more then half my life without him. But life must go on. We can't daily grieve for the lost because we still have the living. I still need to be a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend.
Thank you dad for your humor, your compassion and your love. You are greatly missed, everyday.
Please hug on David for me, say hi to Zeke for me, and please make sure to meet sweet Jubilee. Her big eyes will make you melt!
Love your daughter,
Susan
No comments:
Post a Comment