No Choice

I hadn't heard from my father in a day or so. I became a bit worried about him. Yesterday afternoon I called my brother in Phoenix who told me the funeral home had asked my father to pick up my mother's remains. I can only begin to imagine what a heart-ridden burden this must have been for Dad: picking up a small black plastic box filled with all that remained of my mother. I reminded myself that the box did not contain her soul.

Before I left Arizona we spoke about this particular time that would soon come upon him. Dad said he couldn't bare to have Mom's remains sitting in the house with him: a constant reminder of her passing. So, I asked my great-aunt if she would keep them safe for Dad. My dear, frail great-aunt took my hand and led me into her small library where she had lovingly arranged a special place for them. The warm morning sunlight streamed brightly through her front windows. I knew Mom would approve.

Last evening around dinner time my telephone rang. It was my father. He didn't mention the funeral home calling him and I didn't ask. I knew he would talk about it when he was ready. Instead, Dad spoke excitedly about his morning swim at the fitness club, his appointment with a trainer (complimentary), and how he was getting ready to play cards at the Elks Club later that night. He reminded me (and himself) of how much he missed my mother, and told me that he kissed her beautiful picture every night before going to bed. I envisioned him doing so; a heartfelt expression of his love and devotion.

I felt happiness after talking with my father on the phone. My heart filled with joy for him. I know he misses Mom terribly and will love her for all eternity. At the same time, he is allowing positive memories to creep inside the hole remaining in his heart. The pain inside is starting to wane a bit. This is my greatest hope for him. To live his life by putting one step in front of the other each and every day. To move forward at his own pace.

My father must must carry on without my mother. I know that he is beginning to do so. One step in front of the other each and every day. At his own pace.

He has no choice.