It's a funny thing, when you know someone has only a limited amount of time. You wait for that phone call with a mixture of sadness and relief. Relief in that person has moved on into a better world, or that their suffering has stopped. In that, you no longer have to worry about them.
It's also a phone call you dread, because that person brought you into the world...and now you are alone.
This is an article that I've started and stopped a thousand times. We always were worried about my dad, much more than my mom. When she died, it was more of a shock. Even after 2 + years I'm still not sure if I'm done processing it. Mostly I just miss talking to her.
My dad and I had a good relationship...but not much to talk about. He was passionate about sports, where as I was more like my mother and was interested more in politics and world affairs. Still though, we played catch for hours, he taught me to ride a bike.
He woke up at 4 AM to take his nonathletic kid to hockey practice and soccer practice. I don't think I ever heard him complain about how badly his boy sucked at sports.
My Dad taught me how to change a tire and the oil in the car, how to drive. How to treat a woman. How to be a man. He took pride in my bother and I, and I'm sure we caused him some pain as well. You have nothing left but memories and impressions and the moral compass that was passed on by your parents.
I often joke that I would be a lot more successful in life if my parents had not given us boys...morals.
I came across a quote. “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
Joe Wilson was certainly the "good man" that people talk about. Although he was reserved and quiet. He was full of love. He smile at that little girl or boy across the way and get them to smile back. He would surprise you with a funny joke or comment that might come out of left field and get you laughing. He was...is...a good man.
Sue and I were talking about this last night. The million little sacrifices one makes for their kids...and how we never realize it at the time. It's only when we are older, or have kids of our own that we understand all that they have given us.
Years ago I came across something. It's influenced me my whole life although I can not remember what it was or where I read it. Basically it is a simple belief. We touch other lives in a magnitude of ways. We hope it was for the better, we hope we leave a positive influence.
My Dad certainly left a positive influence on my life, and the lives of the countless people that he called friend, lovers and family throughout his long life. I could do worse than to try and live like he did.
Good night Dad. I love you.
Please click here to read my mother's memorial.
Beautiful
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