A Farewell
The father of a friend passed away yesterday. He was 93. I came to know him as a fan of my writing. It’s odd to think that as the last waves of his long life were heading to the shores of eternity some of them passed over me. I’m grateful he even noticed. But he did, and he commented, and we exchanged comments, and I appreciated him taking time to do so. It felt like a bit of a friendship.
I also came to know him as the father of a daughter and a grand-daughter and a great-grand-daughter. I shared songs with the three of them just last month as they honored the passing of their husband, father, and grandfather, a lovely man. It was a sweet evening and I think, if this patriarch had been able, he would have loved to have been there to see the child of his child and her child perform and sing songs for the father and grandfather, his son-in-law. He would have known for certain that being gone truly meant never being forgotten.
The passing of this patriarch brings to mind all my other friends who lost fathers over the years, and I knew a lot of them, these fathers, and the grief their children felt feels raw all over again. And I miss my father and my wife’s father, and my wife who has gone on to be with her father. But I know, as survivors, over the coming days and months we will gather together and hold one another as this current storm of grief roars. Because in the end we know, as it washes over us, it will make us clean and sweep away the unimportant things. We will see the living, under a clear sky, and embrace them. And sing songs for the departed.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale