Of Death and Atlanta

[MoonCat]

Peace, and prayers and love to you as you go through this journey with your father. There will be a point where he goes on and you remain. Your BF sounds like a keeper. Hang onto him, your mom, everyone who cares, and they'll help you through the grief, and help you go on with your life.

[Antisocial_Worker]

Thank you all for your sympathy. It is very much appreciated.

[Antisocial_Worker]

We buried my father today, on what would have been his and my mother's thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Quite honestly, I'm not sure I can even think of a more grotesque coincidence than that. We laid him to rest in a cemetery where generations of my family lie buried, dating back to the 1770's, on a hillside with a view of the mountains to the west rolling away to the ends of the earth.

Friends attended. Family attended. In fact, last night at the visitation there were so many people coming through that at times they backed up into the funeral home lobby. I lost track of the number of hands I had to shake. I lost track of the number of people I hugged -- and before I could stop myself I even found myself hugging the evil woman who used to babysit me when I was very small. I suspect this woman will outlive us all because Satan won't have her, but that is a story for another time. And at the funeral today, the crowd was quite impressive.

I remember my father as a sick, old, weak man because for these past several years, that is what he was. However, there were pictures of him at the visitation that showed him in his prime. There were stories of his prowess at karate. Did you know he could break concrete blocks with his bare hands? I had forgotten all about it until I was reminded today.

Actually, when I try to remember him as anything other than a man beaten down by diabetes, kidney failure, heart disease, and leukemia (yes, it took all four to kill him) -- when I try to remember him before he became a double amputee -- I remember that when I was a very small child, he kept an entire room full of the most wonderful birds you've ever seen. He even had a talking myna bird. That room full of cages of birds is one of my earliest memories.

I remember scouring flea markets in search of unusual and rare coins to add to his collection. I remember walking in the woods looking for new rocks and minerals. I remember his garden at my grandmother's house -- and when asked just what his secret was to growing such enormous pumpkins, his matter-of-fact reply was that the spot where his garden was now was the spot where the outhouse was decades ago. I remember a lot.

That's not to say that all the good memories will keep the sorrow at bay, though. Far from it. When we took my mother home to that big, echoing house this evening after all was said and done, the sight of all those bird feeders empty, and with no one now to fill them, almost undid me. The sight of that little plowed place in the front yard, with no one now to plant anything there, and with the weeds already growing back, was almost too much. I told his favorite cat that he wouldn't be coming back again and almost fell apart.

There's more, but I'll spare you. My boyfriend tells me this is just how it's going to be for a very long time. Ups and downs, and unraveling altogether sometimes at the slightest provocation. I keep thinking about my mother, alone in that house. When I saw her last tonight she was sitting in the den, undergoing one of her dialysis treatments, poring over the guest book from the funeral with her magnifying glass. She held up beautifully today. We all did, even when the Marines folded the flag and gave it to her, when a warm wind set all the flags of the honor guard to snapping, when a Marine with a bugle played taps.

She even held up beautifully when one of the two pastors officiating wished her a happy anniversary.

I don't know where I'm going with this. It's been a long day of ups and downs, and which included about forty minutes of wailing, helpless sobbing in my boyfriend's arms after we got home. I still had my car keys in my hand and at one point he had to pry them loose to set them aside. Every time I start to lift up and think of something happy or amazing, such as my dad breaking concrete blocks with his bare hands, I'll think of the empty bird feeders or the weeds in the garden and I come crashing back down.

When I think of those glorious mountains you could see from the cemetery, I remember that my dad is lying there under the earth.

There's so much I wanted to say, but I'm getting tangled up in the words, so I guess I'll just stop. I just wanted to say something. Anything.

Thanks for reading.

[Irving Patrick Freleigh]

Aww man. So sorry.

[kpzra]

I'm so sorry. Let yourself cry. My husband drove an hour to come get me when I called him about my mom, I couldn't stop crying to drive. Even right now, almost 3 years later I still tear up thinking about it. It does get easier to set aside until you want to think about it. You can always do things in his honor, like the garden. The only time frame I set on my grief was a week and then I had to be able to hold it together long enough for work. After work I could bawl all I wanted. There is no normal healing process, so don't let anyone tell you there is.

[MoonCat]

There is no way around the grief....only through it. It's like crawling naked over broken glass. Your life will be different now. It will be good, and bad, and painful, and wonderful, and all those normal human things, but different. The love doesn't go away, but it takes time to get used to the new shape of your life. Take that time. It's a cliche to say, take it a day at a time. Sometimes a day is too big to manage, so you take it a moment at a time.

I wish you peace. It will come.

[Mytical]

*hugs* I am sorry for your loss.

My dad use to arm wrestle guys half his age, that did things like work in sawmills (hard physical labor) and win. Hard to imagine him like that now, but when growing up I thought he was stronger then superman...

[Rapscallion]

Ramble if you want. Eventually you'll get to the happier memories and they'll stick.

My condolences.

Rapscallion

[Der Cute]

Go get yourself one of his favorite shirts and keep it. Scent will pull memories up , and as Raps said, you'll get in the habit with positive memories. There will be spots in a day where it's all good doot de doot and something trips the trigger. Those spots WILL get smaller and further apart as you go. (I've had to mourn someone leaving me, boyfriends etc, but this can relate).

Hugs, your BF will be there for you, we are too.

[Jester]

One thing to remember: your father is NOT lying under that earth. His body is, but he himself is not. Everything that made him the man people knew and the father you knew, everything that made him HIM....that is not lying under earth at all. I can't tell you where that part of him is--I am not so arrogant as to presume I know such things, or can tell you what to believe--but I do know that what he was, what he TRULY was, can never be buried.

Remember that.

[AnaKhouri]

I'm not sure what your beliefs are, but try not to think of him in th ground- think of the beautoful view he has, and that he is united now with all the previous generations of your family.

Keep moving forward, it's the only way.

[fireheart]

That is so beautiful and so eloquent and I don't have any condolences good enough to do it justice. Praying for you and you family, I'm very sorry.

Pretty much what Mishi said.

I can't really say much else.

[Eireann]

What everyone else has said. There is no "normal" grieving process. It's not like undergoing surgery, where you have a set routine of physical therapy, a prognosis for release from hospital, further checkups, etc. It just doesn't work that way. You can be laughing one minute, then crying the next. You can go through the day, thinking everything is all right, then you get hit with a tsunami of grief.

Don't be surprised if you get angry at him, too. I've often been angry at my mom.

You might like these lines from a poem that I love:

Though my soul may set in darkness, it shall rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

[Pixilated]

I'm so very sorry for your loss, and your pain. MoonCat is right: there is no way to evade grief. It hurts horribly now -- the hurt will diminish as time goes by but what won't fade will be the wonderful memories. They will help you get through this time.

Jester is also right: wherever your father is ... he's not in that plot of land. I go visit my grandfather's grave when I can, but he and my grandmother aren't there. I don't know why I'm so certain of that, and I don't know where they are ... but they're not there. I like to think they're either flitting back and forth among their grandchildren, or they've found their way back to a hometown where the familiar life goes on forever, and the Second World War never happens.

Take care of yourself. My thoughts and prayers are with your and your family.

[Jester]

Whenever I get to New Jersey, I make Sla point of visiting my father's grave. Not because I think he's there (he's not, merely his bones are), but because that is a point of reference for me.

There is a Jewish tradition (Jews have a lot of traditions) that when you visit a grave, you leave something there to signify your visit. Usually a random rock place on or near the tombstone.

I observe this tradition, but as neither my father nor I have ever been traditionalists in any sense of the word, in the last few visits, I've switched things up a bit. Specifically, since I've been a professional magician, I've always left a deck of cards at the gravesite. I think Dad would like that, me being an entertainer, following (in a way) in his salesman footsteps.

Would most traditional Jews, or even most of my relatives, get this particular display or symbolism? I don't know, and frankly, I don't really care, as this is between Dad and myself. As his only son, I feel free to tell the rest of the world, the rest of the Jews, and the rest of our relatives to go take a flying leap. It's none of their business. But it means something to ME, and I believe it would mean something to Dad. Everyone else be damned.

So do what you feel is right to honor your father, to remember him, to show your love for him. Make your peace, leave your symbol, your "deck of cards" if you will, and move forward in your life, knowing that your father loved you and will always look over you.

I am the Jack of Spades, bowing at the grave of the King of Clubs, and I have no doubt that Norm knows and understands this, even 31 years after the fact, even thogh he died 19 years before I ever picked up my first magic trick. You do what you must to make your own peace, and when you know it's right, don't let anyone tell you you're wrong.