10 years ago we lost one of the two most influential people in our lives up to that point. We were all in different chapters of our life: teenagers, early adulthood, high school, college…. We each experienced Dad’s death in a profoundly personal way – to such a degree that sometimes our familial bonds did not seem to help us in dealing with the grief, loss, confusion, even relief… The time before, and the time following Dad’s passing is a time in each of our lives where we learned to come to terms with mortality in a way that few people our age(s) have had to endure. Seeing death and dying in someone you are so close to can only change you forever.
We are all different from one another to this day, but it seems now that the grief and sorrow that felt so personal then, are something that we share now. We each have our own feelings and memories of dad and his passing. Something personal remains, yet I know that all four of us know what it is like to lose someone of that magnitude at such a young age. This commonality exists- even though I cannot understand what is like to lose a father when in high school, and you may not be able to understand what it’s like to lose a father when you’
ve just begun to understand how to love him, for the first time, as a young adult.
What really strikes me today, though, is that we have hit 10 years. 10 years of life without Dad. Sometimes, I wish I could just call him up and ask him for some financial advice or bug him to come take me out for breakfast b/c it’s been so long. I wish I could have seen the look on his face when I told him I got a full ride to grad school, and I wish he knew how happy I am now that I’m with the one I love and we’re going to have a baby. How proud would he be of all of us? That we managed to grow up and buy houses, choose careers and start families? He’s missed out on quite a bit, and we’
ve missed out on the chance to share it with him.
Over the course of 10 years, I have forgotten things I never wanted to forget about him, but I also now have happier memories. I remember the loud music on the boat, and riding out to see the sunsets on Lake Michigan. I remember how much he loved being in the sun, and how summer always seemed to be a happy time for our family. I recall walking the streets of Chicago, as Dad pointed and explained tall buildings as he marveled at the engineering success of the human race. I remember the Platter, playing sugar football. I remember attending homecoming games and listening to him explain the rules of football to me every year – I loved it; I loved his attention. Dad was far from perfect, and I haven’t forgotten those things, but I enjoy the good memories now for what they are: good memories.
I’m also thankful to him for giving me an important piece of myself. I am driven. I like to get things done; I like to succeed. I know I can figure out how to win, eventually, as all good wins take time. I accomplish lots of things, far more than most, and this energy, I believe, is something I learned or somehow inherited from him. It is a core piece of who I am, and I am thankful for it. All four of us have a piece of this in us as we are all busy accomplishing life every day, every year.
I cannot help but wonder what it would be like if he visited, for just a day. What would he say? Would he see us as we really are? My, how we’
ve changed since he last saw us! He would have to see that we’
ve grown up; we’re no longer just his four little girls. We’re all women now. Then, we were so much younger, still in school, and none of us had met who we were to choose as life partners. Now, we are still in different stages of our lives, but things have changed remarkably: paying our own bills, college degrees, masters degrees, love, weddings, marriage, first houses, living in different states and cities, dogs, children, pregnancies, new jobs, and so much more to come. We are grown up. We are still growing as individuals, as adults, as women, as a family. I can’t believe that Dad has missed all of this. I can’t believe it has been 10 years. I think, though, that if he were to visit, he would beam with pride at how we’
ve turned out. How each of his “girls” has grown.
This song has been spinning in my head for weeks now. I think it’s what he would say to us if he were to come back and see us. I think he would be sad to have missed how much we’
ve grown, and sad that he won’t see us as we continue to do so as the years go by.
Natalie Merchant/ Christian Burial Music © 1992
"my, how you've grown"
I remember that phrase
from my childhood days too
"just wait and see"
I remember those words
and how they chided me
when patient was the hardest thing to be
because we can't make up for the time that we've lost
I must let these memories provide
no little girl can stop her world to wait for me
I should have known
at your age, in a string of days the year is gone
but in that space of time it takes so long
because we can't make up for the time that we've lost
I must let those memories provide
no little girl can stop her world to wait for me
every time we say goodbye
you're frozen in my mind
as the child that you never will be
you never will be again
I'll never be more to you than a stranger could be
every time we say goodbye
you're frozen in my mind
as a child that you never will be
will be again
Dad, you’
ve missed quite a bit in the last 10 years, but we are all doing well. We are happy, healthy, and pursuing our lives to the fullest. We are in love, and we are all grown up with adult lives: houses, families, and plans for the future. We’re not your little girls anymore, except in memories, which is where you live within each of us.
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