My father passed away two weeks ago. This isn't a post looking for sympathy...what I want to examine is how we deal with these situations (not sure I'd call it a crisis...I'll explain why in a moment) when they occur and you are separated from your extended family by thousands of miles.
My father was 80 years old. He fought lung cancer - giving up a lung in the process - in the early 90s. He then went on to battle heart disease, skin cancer, a heart arrhythmia, a series of minor strokes, and bladder cancer. He was a mess. I came face to face with his mortality when I was a senior in high school and they had to remove his lung because of the cancer. He was given a 5% chance at long-term survival at that point.
He went on to live another 18 years. That was my dad.
And I miss him but it's more of a dull ache than anything. When my mom
called to tell me, I was sad but not shocked. And I think my sadness is
more for her than for him. The last few years had seen his quality of
life diminish and the last time he came home from the hospital, he was
on morphine and oxygen. So we knew. Even if we didn't talk about it or
admit it, we knew.
When the call came, my husband answered the phone. Once I had finished
sobbing, he asked me which suitcase I wanted to use. And I just stared
at him.
I wasn't going anywhere.
My dad didn't want a funeral and my mother cannot stand them - they
remind her too much of losing her own father at what she considers to
be entirely too young of an age (she was 26 but I don't think there is
ever a "right" age to lose a parent). So no funeral.
My brothers are scattered - one is on the east coast and the other is a
bit of a drifter. Neither of which were able at this point in time to
come to a funeral. Maybe next year, we decided. Dad wanted to be
cremated which is what Mom did. So now he sits on the mantle in the
living room.
Until we can all get there.
The thing is, he was always such a patient man. So this doesn't surprise me. I know he'll wait for us. He's in no hurry.
But to my friends, and even possibly my husband, my decision to NOT go
back is odd. To me, it is practical. My husband had shoulder surgery a
few weeks ago and cannot completely care for himself. I have 2 children
in school, a job, FRG responsibilities, church commitments, etc. that I
am not comfortable walking away from.
And I am my father's daughter. He raised me to know that you do not
back out on your commitments. He raised me to honor my word and see
things through to the end. He raised me to think of others before
myself. So I know darn good and well that he would have been rolling
over in his grave (or in his urn?) had I ditched those things to come
and cry over his ashes.
And I know that I would not, technically, be 'ditching' anything. But
it would feel that way. I am, if nothing else, practical. And flying
back to be in my mother's way as she navigates the "TO DO" list that my
father's passing has created would not do anyone any good.
Am I odd? Who knows? Everyone handles their grief in different ways,
don't they? A few days after my Daddy died, I had stopped in to a candy
shop to get some candy for my sister-in-law. They had licorice chews
out for Halloween and my first thought was, "I should get some of those
for Daddy! He'd love them!"
And then it hit me...no, he wouldn't. He would have last week maybe.
But not now. And I had to leave the store before I made a fool of
myself crying over licorice. Silly, I know. But everyone handles grief
in different ways, don't they?
I don't think there is a point to this post other than to point out
that grief and the ways we face it and deal with it are as varied as
we, as military spouses, are. And that's ok.
