My daddy passed away completely unexpectedly two years ago today. He was 53 years old and left behind a grieving family of 8 children. It is still difficult to accept the fact that he’s gone. We’re moving forward with our lives, keenly aware that there will always be a huge hole that daddy left.
On the anniversary of his passing, I thought I’d share the words that fill my journal entry from shortly after his death.
September 21st 2015
“Sometimes I relive the horrible moment when I received the frantic phone call from Harmony (my sister) saying that dad had collapsed and the following several hours of tormenting fear and complete exhilaration as his pulse would disappear, be found again, only to ultimately be lost in the heartrending moment of his death.
Nothing in life prepared me for the suffocating pain at his passing. My heart and my mouth screamed “no” in those first horrendous moments. Even as we sat and waited for the life flight which never left the ground, I was fully expecting him to make it through. I would never have forgiven him for scaring me like that.
But as it was, the paramedics were never able to stabilize the fragile pulse and it finally ebbed away despite their best efforts.
When I saw him, he was lying on the cold cement floor of the fire station. I had the distinct feeling that he shouldn’t be left alone and that I needed to help keep him warm. The thin white blanket that was on him couldn’t cover him completely, leaving his balding head that purpled quite quickly and his feet, one with no shoe, exposed to the chilly air.
I couldn’t touch him. I stood near him weeping, feeling like at any moment I would lose the contents of my stomach and in the process vomit the very heart from my body.
There are no words for grief. No comfort in those first moments when everyone is huddled around trying to wrap our minds around the truth. No recollection of the whispered words of shared sorrow from the ones who gathered with us.
But there was the hungry cry of my child, reminding me that life was still moving. There was the replenishment of milk from my body to feed Justice, meeting his need when no one could meet mine. He cooed and giggled, completely unaware of the absence of his grandfather, yet bringing guarded smiles in the midst of tears.
Time moves on. It’s been nearly two months. In that time I have thought of daddy more times than I can count, missed him more than I knew was humanly possible, and remembered him at times with great fondness and others with deep disappointment.
Grief lessens. It ebbs and flows like the waves in an ocean. It comes with surprising force when I least expect it. The edges of my grief are tinged with joy and a bit of jealousy for what he’s experiencing now.
I know his troubles are over, and though I still have tear-drenched pillows on occasion, I do not grieve as though who have no hope because I know I’ll see my daddy again.
RIP Daddy. We miss you!