We apologize for our silence ~jdoe and sis
“My father died on March 7th. His passing was peaceful having gone in his sleep. My mother, his caregiver, was with him when he passed.
It is always hard losing a loved one, and doubly so when you’re locked away, living in exile as I am now. There’s nowhere you can go to mourn in silence and solitude.
But this isn’t about me:
It’s about my father.
When I sat down to write this post I had every intention of writing a eulogy that would paint a picture of my father so all could see how much he meant to me. I also wanted to write something that would make readers of this post wish they’d known him.
But how to summarize the life of a man whom I’ve love for over 50 years?
How do you do justice to the life of someone who was more than a father? He was a guide and mentor, a parent and friend, a confidant and sounding board, a coach and cheerleader. My Dad was a man like any other man with his strengths and faults, his positive and negative, his rights and wrongs, his good and bad, his ups and downs.
What made him unique in my eyes was his desire to teach me how to be a man holistically and later how to be a father. He did these things at a time when society was weak in these things. His sense of family and his dedication to being a father was in contrast to so many of my friend’s lives. While my Dad was teaching, my friend’s fathers were busy with sports on TV; not that my Dad didn’t take his time to watch sports but while he was watching TV we were also talking life.
Talking life was something my Dad did often with me, usually late at night when I’d come home from a friend’s house or a date. I can tell you that at the time all I wanted was to go to bed – now – I cherish those talks and will miss the opportunity to hold them with him ever again.
In some ways I don’t know how to feel. Should I feel anger that dementia won? Should I feel relief that he’s stepped away from suffering? Should I feel joy that he’s crossed over to eternal salvation? Should I feel sorrow, regret and remorse knowing my father died while I’m here in prison? I wonder what his thoughts around me were. I wonder how disappointed he was. My father and I never had a chance to talk about my transgressions and the outcome there of. And now the door is closed to that opportunity.
I was asked by the Priest here what my favorite memory is and if I could say only one more thing to my father what would it be?
I actually have three favorite memories.
One is our time working together on my first car. He was a huge help and he even worked on it when I went away to college – such was his commitment to me.
My second favorite memory is when we as a family went on a two week vacation. I was five years old and he spent a lot of time with me that trip as we visited all the sights that tourists visit. The whole time I felt like his buddy; I felt older than I was and I felt totally accepted.
Maybe my favorite memory, certainly the greatest piece of “advice” he ever gave me, came one of those late nights when I was talking to him about maybe dating someone other than Jane. He said to me, “It’s always interesting to see your offspring fuck up.” It’s not that I married Jane because of Dad, but it was his way of presenting a perspective that was really more objective than mine at the moment. I cannot imagine a life without her really, and I thank Dad for keeping me honest within my own heart.
As for what I would say to him beyond, “I love you”?
I wish I’d said it before he passed.
Obviously, I won’t be attending his funeral. My Mom won’t have me there to lean on. By God’s grace she’ll have my wife and my sister, both of whom I feel are stronger than me anyway.
Genesis 3:19 says we are but dust and to dust we shall return. There’s a comfort knowing that we will all one day be returned to the earth from which we were made. I do feel relief in knowing this and Dad, you’re in God’s hands now – better off than any of us.
Dad – I love you – and – Thank You.
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