Five Years

What can happen in five years?
So many things. So much growth of wisdom and maturity. Dynamic experiences and important people added to life. And the memories of one so dear, who was lost.

I feel like I mark the point in my life when I lost my Dad, as the point where many changes began to take place in my heart and mind. Perhaps it is a conglomerate of losing a parent and also growing up. Something like deep loss does cause one to grow up very quickly. It forces one to think about death and the inevitability of it.

Some of us do not remember dates or anniversaries. Even for loved ones, remembering a birthday is a challenge. I am not one of those people. For some reason, I remember birthdays, dates, and anniversaries. I don't know why. Perhaps my detail-oriented self picks up on that. And perhaps I get that from my Dad because he always remembered those tiny details.

Five years ago today I lost my Dad. My Mom lost her husband. My brothers lost their Dad. My Aunt lost her brother. The world lost a truly good man. I felt completely unprepared for handling such a tragedy of losing a parent. I had absolutely no idea I could feel such intense sadness. But there it came, rushing like a swift river with such a strong current there was no way to go back. There was only one way to go. Through it. Through the mourning and the sadness.

People ask if it gets easier with time. It is not about getting easier, but about getting through the mourning that is important. Opening ourselves up to God in a time of grief is how one gets through the tunnel of darkness. That is how one moves forward.

And that is what I have done over these five years. My heart has grown, my wisdom, my eagerness to learn and continue to. I've become a much better person, more caring, more open, and more willing to take on challenges, and I wish my Dad were here to see it. That is a selfish thing to say because he is in a far better place than this. But because his character was of the highest quality, I aim for that high mark. My memories of him are filled with reminders that he did everything in love. For example, he picked out a car for me when I was in high school. A 1991 BMW 525i. It took me awhile to realize that the attention he gave to making sure my car had enough oil, fluids, and air in my tires was his way of showing love. And the countless times that he and I would wash my car on the driveway were moments that he and I could talk about what was going on in our lives.

I probably say this every year, but keep telling stories. Keep the memories alive. I will always be glad to talk about my Dad. Many times the stories will involve funny things he would say or ways he would say things. For he loved to tell stories.