I’m almost there. Since my father’s birthday, I’ve begun to accept his death. It’s odd. For thirteen months I’ve been wandering around with all types of intense emotions: anger, denial, regret, resentment, guilt, and depression. Now, I’m starting to be somewhat myself again. Looking back, I felt so alone even though I had, and still have, supportive family and friends. It is a lonely journey toward acceptance and acceptance is not the end of the journey.
“My life is what I am given now. I will trust that the fog will lift and the mountains will be beautiful once more.” This quote is from Martha Whitmore Hickman’s book “Healing After Loss.” Her book is a daily read, one page only, identified by month and day. This quote is on April 2, my father’s birthday. I remember reading it and thinking, “Well now this is coincidental since that’s about how I feel.” The fog has lifted. I look at the mountains from my deck and they are indeed majestic perhaps more now since I see with transformed eyes. For me, life comes with death yet with death comes a renewed sense of life. I think that’s why I appreciate Hickman’s quote. It’s as if life and death are flip sides of the same coin.
I know I’ll never be the same. No one is after the death of a loved one. This was my first loss of an immediate family member whom I loved dearly. Although I knew my father would die, afterwards I had no idea what a process it would be to endure. Acceptance is acknowledging the logical reality of a loss I wish I wouldn’t have had. It may be the last stage of grieving but the sorrow remains. It is merely manageable now.
I’ve learned so much in the past year. Loss is everywhere. I’m truly not alone. Allow me to share from my past year. It’s best to ask for help if your pain is overwhelming. Family and friends may not know what to say or do unless you specifically ask. I’ve found that people in mourning find less understanding from nonprofessionals shortly after the death. Counselors, support groups, and members of the clergy are a useful resource.
I’ve learned to appreciate a bit of solitude and time for reflection. I’ve become more tolerant, patient, understanding, and less judgmental. I find I start to chastise myself for learning these things only after my father’s death. Then I pause, reflect, and prefer to be grateful for this wisdom now rather than never.
Although I’m at the acceptance stage, I’ll always think of my father. I’ve heard it from every one that has lost a parent, “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about them.” We think we can prepare for death but it always comes too soon.
I know I’ll still have some sad days but I can go on writing about my father. He lived an interesting life. Now, the path of my journey is in telling his stories.
So, my healing journey continues. Join me. I’ll listen. I’ll understand. We can exchange stories.
(Henry Alfred Rudolph. Born April 2, 1930. Died March 2, 2015.)
Column by Linda R. Jones
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