1 year

It has been one year since my Dad passed away. In some ways it has been the longest year of my life. In others, it has been a short blur. The best way to sum up my year is as follows: The first part of the year I mourned the absence of my Daddy; the second part of the year I mourned the loss of memory of my Daddy. The first statement is pretty self-explanatory. He was a giant in my life- a man I would call upon when I had doubts, questions or just to talk. When someone like that dies, there is a void in your life that feels like it will never be filled. The second part of the statement is my fault: "I mourned the loss of the memory of my Daddy." My dad was a man of records. He has journals, thought books, cds, talks and published books; all resources I could go to when I forget the sound of his voice, his inflections or even some of his often-shared quotes. However, I often found this painful in my grieving process, particularly to listen to his voice. It seemed to accentuate the pain of his absence and remind me of the fact that I couldn't talk to him. I hope to soon overcome this, as I yearn to hear him.
Amidst the pain, has come much growth. I've grown even closer to my best friend, Brian. He has wiped away tears that felt bottomless and often out of the blue. He's listened to my worries and pains with willing ears and and understanding heart. He's shared similar pains with me and it has brought us closer. I've grown closer to God and my appreciation for His great and flawless Plan has exponentially increased. I gained a greater appreciation for our time on earth and an understanding that it is short and fleeting. I've gained more compassion and understanding for friends who have also felt great losses in their lives. I have also gained strength from their examples.
This last weekend, I was in California with several of my siblings, celebrating Daddy's return to Heaven day (as named by the Jaggis). The week prior to the 15th was a rough week. I kept reliving (through dream a waking thought) the day of his passing and the night following. I worried what the 15th would be like. Well Norah, it was beautiful. It was full of thought and feeling of my Daddy. Liz and Mike hosted an art exhibit, featuring some of their works inspired by my dad, his life and his writings. It was a beautiful way to celebrate him and feel close to him. It was perhaps, a break through for me and my struggle in hearing his voice and reading his words. At the end of the night, we let go white balloons (a tradition started by the Jaggi's at their son Stewart's funeral and also done at my Dad's funeral.) We laughed when we remembered my Dad's comment, watching the balloons fly away at Stewart's funeral: "Look at those little sperms flying away." As I watched the white balloons fly on their black sky canvas, I had to chuckle that we were sending the balloons to him in Heaven when we know that the Spirit World is here, upon the earth. That chuckle however, turned into a re-realization (pretend that's a word): My Dad is close. I don't feel him everyday, or as often as I'd like, but he is close. The Spirit World is all around us. That is so comforting to me.
So, here is to another year, without my Daddy, but hopefully full of much growth. I want to listen to your voice this year Daddy, I want to continue to feel for you and see the unseen.