Remembering Dad

November has become a big month for anniversaries at our house. I don’t know why, but it seems to be one of those months during which watershed events seem to happen, to us and to people we know. This year, my family marks the addition of a new anniversary to the calendar: one year since the passing of my beloved father on November 9, 2005.

Hard to fathom, but we have been without his laugh and his smile, his propensity for conversation and his wisdom for twelve whole months now. In some respects it was a very long year, what with the business affairs that accompany death --- funerals, wills, estate sales, headstones, etc. --- taking so much time, energy, and emotion. Yet, in other ways, time marched on whether we were ready for it or not. Thanksgiving still came. Christmas was celebrated. The New Year rang in. Holy Week and Easter passed by too. We changed churches, helped move my mother into her new home, and (unfortunately) marked the passing of several other friends and family members during the year.

Because my dad (and a classmate of my daughter) died so close to Thanksgiving last year, the holiday season will forever have the potential to be somewhat subdued, filled with reminders of loved ones who are no longer with us, who cannot be with us, and who we desperately want to have with us. Of course, it has this potential only if we permit it to be that way. I know my father would not want me to subdue my celebration of anything, let alone the holidays. He would ask only that the festivities be tasteful (and economical). He would rather I demonstrate an attitude like that expressed in this poem that I found online this morning.

The Final Flight

Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free.
I’m following the path God laid for me.
I took his hand when I heard his call.
I turned my back and left it all.

I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work, to play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I’ve found that peace at the end of the day.

If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Ah, yes, these things too I will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life’s been full, I savored much,
Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch.

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief,
Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wanted me now,
He set me free.

--- Author Unknown

My father was a lifelong Lutheran Christian who ushered in church almost every Sunday for 46 years. I would often “catch” him having quiet time in the morning while sitting at the kitchen table, eating a poached egg and toast (sometimes with bacon if he could convince my mother to get up early and make it for him). I know that he is having a great time in heaven, not just for Thanksgiving but for eternity. He is most surely free, and for that I am thankful. In that, I take great comfort.