I have two guy friends who have lost their fathers very recently and I have been anxiously pondering what to say to them. "Thoughts and prayers" seem inadequate, however heartfelt. What can be said in a note that means anything, really?
The best note we received after my father died in 1996 was from a neighbor whose cabin was next to ours on Douglas Lake for years. She wrote "We always remember Tony at the lake, walking around with a beer, singing "Jose Cuervo he was a friend of mine." That made us all smile, and remember happier days. Dad liked to drink a cold PBR and sing, and he sang with great enthusiasm, in the house, in the yard, in the car - wherever and whenever the mood struck him.
I have no wisdom to share about losing a father, just a few random thoughts that might or might not be helpful, at some point.
I am actually jealous of my friends because they had their dads around for more than 50 years. I was barely 34 when I lost my dad.
Right after Dad died, I cried and sleepwalked through my life, barely functional, for about 8 months. Every time I went to see my mother in Augusta I would miss Dad much more painfully, because he wasn't in his chair in the den. He wasn't walking around singing. He wasn't grilling anything in the back yard. He wasn't in the driveway washing my car and fussing at me for not keeping it cleaner. Nobody called me "DeeDee." The house seemed hollow.
I would see my uncle -- who looked a lot like Dad -- and just want to grab him and scream DON'T LEAVE US! PLEASE!
Here's the hard part.
You never stop missing a parent who dies.
You never stop thinking "Oh wow, Dad would like that book. I need to call him." You just think it less as years go by, hopefully.
You never stop wishing you could pick up the phone, or run by the house, or run by his old haunts and hope to find him there. You just turn off the wish impulse as best you can.
You try to function. You try not to cry like a ninny when you see a John Wayne movie on TV that was his favorite movie. You try not to lose it when you walk into a crowded place and smell his aftershave. You try to not let your face show stabbing grief when you look at your brother and see your dad's face.
I've always envied people who could spend days in bed, wallowing in grief. I am incapable of wallowing. I have too many things to do, too many responsibilities. I got that from Dad, his energy -- a blessing or a curse? I don't know.
One of my friends said to me on the phone last night "I don't know if I'm mourning correctly."
I immediately retorted "There is no correct way. Everyone grieves their own way, in their own time. Don't fight that process." My friend lost his mom a few months ago and his dad a few weeks ago. They were both in a nursing home and had dementia, but the loss still hurt him deeply.
Here's what I cannot say to him: they are at peace. They are not in pain. They are FINE. You owe it to them to work towards your own fine.[It would feel mean to say it.]
I have never had to mourn both my parents at once. I also have the gift of faith.
I think we owe a debt to our parents. I truly do. You may disagree and that's fine. I just know this -- my dad worked hard to give me and my brother a better life, an easier life, than he had. He grew up poor. He had to struggle to get through college. He spent years paying off his loans. I owe him a life well-lived. I owe it to him to do my best, every day. I owe him.
I owe my mother, too. She worked hard, and struggled and sacrificed.
Wallowing accomplishes nothing, but then again, everyone has the right to do it.
So to my friends who are mourning, here's my best advice. Don't be macho and just suck it up. Cry. Scream if you like. Sit and remember everything -- the way it felt to hug your dad. How he talked. Expressions he used. Funny things he said or did, over the years. Gather up your photos of him, and videos, if you have them. Don't be afraid to look at them.
Mourning is a process. Grief has no rules.
One day, hopefully, you will wake up and realize that although seeing photos or videos of him is a bit sad, you're also happy to see him, happy to have the memories, happy that he was here, and he loved you.
Take action. Pass that love along to his other descendants, and your family and friends. Whether or not you believe in an afterlife, try to believe this: love never dies. It's the strongest energy in the world. Go out and love some more, and honor your father and mother that way.
