Sunday, March 27, 2016

I mourn for my Father

Not true.  I just thought is was a catchy post title.  I like the sound of it.  When I say it in my head it sounds sullen and deep.  I say it in a voice that sounds like the deep voiced announcer of movies years ago.

My Dad did pass away on February 26th, 2016.  He had been put in hospice about 10 days before his passing.  I was on my way "home" to see him, one last time.  We were told to get there sooner than later.  The cat, BooDuh, and I were driving through Forsyth, MT when my sister called.  She told me to "pull over."  I knew.  I didn't need to pull over, I just knew.  I did pull over, because the words needed to be said, the questions needed to be asked.  My mind needed to know the finality.  I sobbed, for a bit, then pulled back on the highway.

I had talked to Dad the Monday before he passed.  It was one of the more coherent conversations we had had in a long while.  "Hello daughter," he boomed!  "Hi Dad, I'm coming to see you," I told him. He had no concept of what I was telling him.  He asked the always asked question, "Where you at?" The answer was always "in Montana".  "Oh."  I told him I loved him.  He told me he loved me.  The conversation was over.

I have yet to mourn the passing of my Dad.  I cry sometimes at memories.  I cry sometimes because he is gone.  Just like with my Mom's passing almost five years ago, there have been a lot of firsts. This is my first Easter without a Dad.  Without a Mom and Dad.  As an orphan, in Montana.

I talked to my sister, Betty, about not mourning Dad's passing.  I told her I wondered if it was because I have been mourning his loss for quite sometime.  Dad had alzheimers.  I had been told a few weeks prior that his alzheimers had advanced.  He had been going away for a couple of years, slowly.  Slow enough that I watched from the sidelines, unable to do anything.  Slow enough that it could be seen and heard.  And mourned.

I know one of these days I will have a good cry over the passing of my Dad.  I know I need to. I need to cry. I need to let out the pain in my heart.  I need to.  But, not today.  Not yet. Not today.

(As a side note, when I spell alzheimers I get a squiggly red line indicating the word is spelled wrong. The only spelling error is that it it is not capitalized.  The disease in my opinion is not worthy of a capital a.)


Fram Actual said...

It took about twenty years after my step-father died before I cried about him / over him, Boni. He and I never really got along, but, still, I missed him and could acknowledge the things I liked about him as well as the things which set us apart. I never really have mourned for my actual father, who I never knew. Never-the-less, I do miss that he is not walking the earth so we might get to know each other.

A high school classmate died a few days ago, and I have been thinking about him a great deal lately.

We are part of everyone, both family and friends, who we have known over the years. No matter who or what we are, a bit of them will linger with us until we are gone, and I do not think it ever gets any easier.

No matter how much we like to think we are in control of our lives, within us something releases our emotions or, at other times, creates them, when it knows the time is right. Our inner instincts tell us what to remember and what to push into the back of our minds, and create an understanding of who we are and why those who have been part of our lives were there.

Anyway, that is what I think. I sympathize with your loss, Boni, and I hope you will soon see that we can only be who we are where we are when we are, and it is our future which is most important, not our past. Our past is only there to help us grow and learn.

its_me_in_montana said...

I like your words Fram. I know when the time is right, the tears will flow. My Dad was my hero. Last year, we had a 90th birthday party for him. Good memories of a few days spent in a cabin on a lake in Wisconsin. For me the hardest part of death is the going on. Life goes on without the loved one. I know the person is always with us in our hearts, just seems like the going on part gets easier the older I get. Sigh.

I hope you have been well. Thanks for stopping by. I think I will be returning to BlogLand. I miss writing, and I need the therapy.