Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Loss

A dear friend of ours just lost his father.  From the sounds of it, the circumstances are so much like my own father's passing that I have been feeling heavy and sad.  Both for him and for me, I suppose.  Often times, the journey to another's sorrow is through our own worn paths of old pain.  What I know is that one is never ready to lose a good parent. 

It's nearing a decade that I've lived without Dad, and I still miss him, every day.  I was 29 when it happened and nowhere ready to lose my protector.  The man would have slayed dragons for me; this I know for sure, and there were some big ones waiting down my path.  When he died, we were just beginning our maiden voyage to the land of infertility, that savage, undiscovered country that stole our dreams one at a time and broke our hearts before giving us our life back.  How I needed his wisdom.  His assurance.  His humor.

And then, when we finally became parents, I missed him all over again.  I want my children to know him.  To hear his voice tell stories only the way he can.  To hear him say, "Are you going to be a straight arrow?"  To get wrapped up in one of his giant bear hugs and hear him whisper fiercely in their ears that he loves them with all his heart.  I want them to experience his faith, his mirth, his perspective, his loyalty, and his joy; knowing that their lives are poorer because he is not here breaks my heart.

I have had a difficult time talking about the death of my father.  I can tell stories about my dad, but I can not communicate the loss.  It was nearly a year before I could simply write it in my journal, and even then, my description was brief.  I do not have the words.  Not to describe the searing pain across my soul that is the missing of him.

It is with this understanding that I stand near my friend, unable to heal what hurts.  I can not take his pain, but I can share it.  Sometimes that is enough. 

8 comments:

Rochelleht said...

Wow, Laurel. I honestly can't imagine. I have had two dear friends lose their mothers in the last 2 years and I feel very inadequate to help them mourn. Until one experiences it, I don't think there is any empathy or full understanding. I can sympathize and imagine it must be horrible. Your description is very good. It gives me a tiny glimpse into the pain.

Jennifer said...

Thanks for your post Laurel. Your dad was extra special. I have really been mulling over the fact that three people in our circle of friends have lost their fathers. Stephen and I are picking up Bono in Cheyenne and heading to Bayard for the funeral on Saturday. I'm going to forward your post to Shane. I think he'd like reading it.

Love you!

Elder Nicholas Sinks said...

Thank you so much for sharing this. Your dad was a amazing man, a great leader in the church, and I know you loved him dearly.
I can't believe it has been almost ten years. I can still picture him on the stand at Stake Conf. Such a great man!

Ella said...

Your Dad was a wonderful person. I also have so very many fond memories of him from being at your house and from church. I too think that the things that are closest to our soul are the very things we can't describe in words, but others understand as they experience something similar like losing a parent themselves. I certainly have a different perspective since losing David's mother 4 years ago. I'm sure your friend appreciates that you can understand on a higher level than those who have yet to experience such a loss.

Shana said...

Yep...that one got me! I'm crying like a baby. When I was reading the way you described grandpa, I could actually hear him and feel his big bear hug around me again.
That was such a terrible summer for me. I had just "lost" my parents to Oklahoma. I was in the middle of a huge and very difficult crossroads on my marriage. Then with grandpa passing, it was really hard to keep myself together.
I don't know why, but I didn't realize you were only 29 years old when you lost your father. I will be 30 years old in March, and I can not imagine what my life would be like for me or my children if my father was not in it.
Even though it is almost a decade later I want to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. My heart breaks for you as well.
Something I remember from grandpa's funeral was you and aunt Cindy singing together. I was so touched by your song and I was looked up to you for how well you controlled yourself while up there. You conveyed a great message that I know grandpa wanted everyone to hear that day. I know I couldn't have done that. You truly have a gift Laurel.
I love you...hugs and kisses to you all the way from Oklahoma!

Joan said...

Laurel, I really loved your Dad. He was like a second father to me. I was at your house every day practically, and he was there to tease and joke and laugh with. I went to the hospital to see him the day he passed and I could not believe it. Oh, his wonderful legacy lives on though and everyone that knew him loved him including my parents.
Hugs,
Joan Marchant Ostler

RdrBear said...

Laurel, I learned from my friend, Lt. Col. Dave Grossman (Ret.) that what you are doing is so valuable to your friend. The human brain was designed by Heavenly Father in such a way that "pain shared is pain divided and joy shared is joy multiplied." This very much fits both these posts about your dad and the reality of loss. I'll save my comments about your wonderful dad for your more recent post. ...

michaelangelo said...

What a special post about a very special man. I have fond memories of your father in my youth and having recently lost my mother I certainly feel for your own loss.

What fun to have discovered your blog, you have a wonderful and amazing family.