Life has changed a lot for me since my beloved Father passed away a little over three years ago. Even though my memory of him is as lovely as ever, I've never really reconciled myself with his passing. I've been able to accept his death...just not the circumstances surrounding it.
And I doubt I ever will.
As an adult I remained extremely close to my Dad and watching his mind fade into some dark and unknown place was very, very difficult. He lingered so long between reality and fractured remembrances of his younger self that when death finally came I understood it to be the greatest show of mercy God could bestow upon him.
And me.
Not long ago my mother, sister and I went through some of my Father's belongings that had been stored away for over a decade. Most of the hundreds of boxes held books...but some held keepsakes that obviously were very dear to my Dad and there were a handful of photos as well. Some I hadn't seen since I was a young child...some I had never seen. Even though it was a task that had to be done, I couldn't help but feel I was invading his personal space.
I wondered if he was looking down upon the three of us while we worked or if he was busy doing other things...
You know, things like sitting in the presence of the God...walking the streets of gold while taking in the heavenly scenery...chatting with those who had gone on before him.
I didn't know.
My Dad was a very complex and private person and even sometimes secretive. I hated being inside that storage unit and as each box was opened I came face to face with telltale signs of the mental illness that was beginning to steal away the Father I had known and loved for all my life.
Obsessive and compulsive behavior could be seen at every turn.
Lists and more lists...and then even more lists.
Each box carefully tagged with excessive ramblings and taped closed as if golden nuggets were safely tucked inside.
My Father. Complicated and mysterious as times. And one of the two greatest men I've ever known.
Today, as I think about my Father, I'm buoyed by the legacy of hope that remained within his heart until the day of his passing. His unwavering faith in God and his steadfast belief that somehow, someday, I'd get things right. That eventually I'd find a way to live my life to the fullest while being content with the simplest of blessings~
Like the first violet blooms of spring...
The seemingly endless heat from a summer's day...
The quiet rustle of autumn leaves...
Or winter's coldest breath...
You know, just regular old days that are so easy to ignore.
Life. We have only one.
I'm trying my best to live mine out in truth and I hope, pray my Father would be proud.
Thank you, Daddy, for helping to plant my feet upon the Solid Rock.
I love you.
I miss you.
~*~
Blessings~
Rebecca
3 comments:
Becky Sue, A beautiful post. Beautifully written. My Daddy went to heaven last December. My dear Mom is having a time of it. Misses him so. When my Dad didn't remember who I was, I somehow managed to not let it upset me. I could still hold his hand and talk to him. This illness came on slowly and truthfully I guess it took me by surprise. Any who...I am comforted that he is in heaven. I'm not sure if I will ever take hold of him being gone. I know he is, but....
All the best to you always,
d
What a lovely tribute. I feel blessed to still have both my parents, both in their 80's.
Truly a beautiful tribute to your Dad. He certainly would be proud of you.
The dreaded disease of Alzheimer lurking its ugly head again in my family. My Mom had it, my father--law had it and now my sister has been diagnosed. So little is known about this every growing disease, much less medications that can not cure but at least help. A difficult time for my family...
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