Although I knew it would not be easy to say "Good-by" to my father yesterday, the intensiveness of actually doing so still surprised me. I thought I would be strong, if only for him. When the time came I hugged him tightly and whispered in his ear. "I love you so much Daddy. Promise me that you'll take care of yourself. I need you so."
He put his warm arms around me and he cried too. I don't know exactly what he said to me but I do remember that his words were comforting. I know he thanked me for everything I had done which certainly wasn't necessary. As I said before, the time I was able to spend with my mother at the end, and the days afterward with my father were gifts to me. None of them I could have anticipated or ever wished for in advance. Still, they were gifts that somehow God knew I needed to have. Gifts to hold in my heart and soul. Gifts given to me directly from the hearts of my parents; shared intimately with my own. Gifts that will be with me for the rest of my life. Appropriate I suppose for this Season of Joy. I am forever grateful.
It's true what people say about grief: it comes in waves. I find myself swimming in this unfamiliar sea at various times throughout each day, always unexpectedly. More since I've arrived home here in St. Louis. I no longer feel like I have to be the 'strong' one. No one ever put that upon me. I did it on my own. But now I feel it is safe to let go.
Each one of us will lose loved ones during our lifetimes. Knowing this doesn't make it any easier for me, but it does give me hope for the future. Like everyone else, somehow I will get through this.
In the end, grief is a mixed blessing.
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