Late last Friday night I received a call from my aunt. When she told me as gently as possible that my dad had passed away a few hours before, I immediately began to sob, not so much for myself, but for the intense, acute, indescribable grief I knew my mother was feeling and will almost certainly continue to feel for the rest of her life. During the three days Reid and I spent with her, helping in whatever small way we could, she described her sorrow with such accuracy. I felt such a weight in my heart for her. She described my father as "the only person who loved me more than I loved them" and she told me she saw no point in living without him, nor did she have any desire to. She spent several unimaginable hours with his body after she found him in their home that night.
What do you do or say when there are no words and no actions that reach the depth of someone's grief? I have never experienced a feeling of greater helplessness. I held my sobbing, unconsolable mother in my arms and wished to take her pain away.
Reid and I waited in Washington for several days until we were able to fly out to Oklahoma. I dreaded the thought of returning to a place where I had experienced so much misery. At first I felt scrutinized by the same words and looks I grew up enduring. But I focused on being there for my mother, and continually dismissed the feeling that I needed to prove myself to anyone else there. My journey to emotional health and happiness would not be understood by anyone, anyway.
I also scorned myself for seemingly not feeling the appropriate emotions about my Dad's death. Our relationship was strained, at best, for so many years. The problems are far too complicated and personal to go into descriptions here, but those of you who know me understand how my feelings could be so conflicting. Reid comforted me by explaining to me that there is no such thing as having a right or wrong emotion about it all. I would never wish evil on my dad's soul. I pray earnestly that he is in a better place. I will never know if he felt remorse for his treatment of me. Something inside me says that he did, but never expressed it to me. And I am at peace. I forgave him long ago, else I would not have been able to be truly happy. And what remained on his conscience, if anything, is between him and his maker now.
I am amazed that good can come even out of the most horrendous, painful circumstances. I felt an incredible sense of peace after Dad was laid to rest. Though the funeral and burial were difficult to endure, I knew that it brought some consolation to my mama, and that it was exactly as Dad would have wanted it. His simple, beautiful coffin was built by the men in the community from the tree he had chopped down the day he passed away. They dug his grave, lowered him into it, and buried him. Such a beautiful detail, I just wanted to share.
There has been a long-standing grudge between Dad's family and my mother, for various reasons within Dad's side of the family. His older sister detested us because of her vehement anti-Catholicism. His older daughters refused to communicate with my mother and I because they felt we had stolen their father away from them. Or so I was told growing up.
At the funeral, April and Erin approached me and asked for my contact information. I had not anticipated that they would want to keep in touch after Dad's death, since he was our only link. But they explained to me that they had never disliked me, and that they felt I had received the short end of the stick, on all accounts. I felt so much peace in the realization that I had not been hated. It is amazing that we can create such inaccurate realities in our own minds. I always wished for siblings, and for them to be my sisters. How tragic and pointless it is that we deprive ourselves of so much happiness because of holding on to hurt feelings and grudges.
Too, Reid met a large part of my family, and all at once, which would normally have taken years. He was welcomed warmly. I was so relieved, particularly given the circumstances of our marriage. I was grateful to have him by my side, and proud to introduce him as my husband. I was inexpressibly impressed at his always-appropriate demeanor, words, and actions. It isn't a secret that I have very little tact, and that my first and much less difficult meeting with his family was less than graceful. I continue to marvel at his sweet, strong, gentle manner. I was especially grateful for my mother's acceptance, which I had hoped for, but not expected. When we parted ways at the airport, she spoke words of wisdom to both of us, and told Reid she loved him as a son, and that she was glad he would be taking care of her daughter. If you don't know much about my mother, let me just say, this was a huge step for us.
Because she will no longer be taking the vacation she and my dad were going on in October, she now has airline vouchers which she will be able to use to fly to our wedding next summer. It is so mysterious that innumerable little blessings arose from Dad's death.
I believe that when tragedy strikes, an easy alternative to dealing with the grief we are feeling is to blame someone. Somehow it makes us feel better to place fault. But in the end, the simple truth is that sadness comes in life, and that sometimes it is no one's fault. I have begun to grasp this situation of life in a more personal way.
I am exhausted, in a way that sleep cannot remedy, but only time and distance. It may seem twisted, but I am thankful for the entire experience, though it was one of the most difficult weeks of my life. Now all that is left is to begin the next part of life.
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