It’s been two years today since my father passed away.
I woke this morning with a feeling of dread, a knot in the pit of my stomach. Then I remembered. Today, two years past, my Dad died and I miss him still, so very much. I always will. There is an emptiness in me that is Dad-shaped and cannot be filled again. That is as it should be, even if it hurts.
My Dad died very suddenly, and very slowly. He suffered a massive stroke and was gone, in a heartbeat, just as he wanted. But he also died a piece at a time, for six long years. I watched; I know how hard he fought to regain his life after the accident. He wasn’t able to win that fight. Instead, each day took a little more of his strength, a small bite of his stamina. It was a death by inches, until finally he couldn’t go on any longer.
Sitting remembering Dad, I realized that I too lost something in those years of watching his struggle. Each day broke a little chip off my heart. Each day added a measure of sorrow. I felt the sadness seep into my bones.
I have said my goodbyes, made my peace with his passing. I do not wish him back, at least not to the life he endured for those last six years. In my heart, I carry his beautiful smile and the memory of his love. I am at peace with it, even while the ache of loss remains.
I am ready to go on. No, it is more than that. I need to go on. Living as we did, under the shadow of Death, has left me pale and wan, spiritually speaking. I need to walk out into sunshine, to feel the light of Life renew my energies. I am ready to embrace life in all its complexities. I crave a regeneration of spirit and soul, one that renews the mind and heals the body. I seek peace and quiet joy, contentment, for I already have love.
I sit back, see again, in my mind’s eye, Dad’s shining smile, and know he would approve.