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THIRTEEN YEARS AGO ...
Jan. 5th, 2009 01:19 amI've never been much on remembering anniversaries of various occasions, whether happy or saddening ... I only remember birthdays if I get a sufficient reminder. Heh, I usually forget it's Christmas until about Dec. 20 or so, usually too late to start thinkin' about sending cards and such.
And so it is that I had forgotten until just an hour or so ago that this past day, Jan. 4, was 13 years to the day that my father died.
There's no real sadness or melancholy. I grieved for my dad a long time ago, and there were few tears then -- we all grieve in different ways, I suppose. (I was about half at piece, half completely numb.) His faith was strong -- as, in my better moments, is mine -- and on one level I believe him to be more fully alive than I am or than anyone reading these words is, as we're trapped within the limitations of mortal humanity, and, well, he's not. More, he's in the presence of the Christ he loved increasingly in his years ... and when I think of that, and couple it with the physical pain and discomfort he was in in his later years, I can't really be all that sad.
Still, and all, I miss him. And there's still the time every now and then when I wish we could talk, and I could hear the wisdom that few people knew he had.
So ... that's that, I guess. Really, I don't consciously observe his death. Rather, I celebrate his life, and the positive impact he had on those around him. Which is, I suppose, what I would want people to do when I'm gone as well.
And so it is that I had forgotten until just an hour or so ago that this past day, Jan. 4, was 13 years to the day that my father died.
There's no real sadness or melancholy. I grieved for my dad a long time ago, and there were few tears then -- we all grieve in different ways, I suppose. (I was about half at piece, half completely numb.) His faith was strong -- as, in my better moments, is mine -- and on one level I believe him to be more fully alive than I am or than anyone reading these words is, as we're trapped within the limitations of mortal humanity, and, well, he's not. More, he's in the presence of the Christ he loved increasingly in his years ... and when I think of that, and couple it with the physical pain and discomfort he was in in his later years, I can't really be all that sad.
Still, and all, I miss him. And there's still the time every now and then when I wish we could talk, and I could hear the wisdom that few people knew he had.
So ... that's that, I guess. Really, I don't consciously observe his death. Rather, I celebrate his life, and the positive impact he had on those around him. Which is, I suppose, what I would want people to do when I'm gone as well.
