This morning, my son woke and came into our room like he sometimes does. We play (all three of us) in bed and share lots of smiles and giggles. Today, in one of those quiet moments in-between, when he wasn't squirming all over, but instead laid on his belly and cuddled between his father and I, I began rubbing his back. Instinctually, I started drawing the letters of the alphabet on his back and asking him to guess what they were, the way my father always did to my brother and I - usually when we were home sick from school. That game normally followed a bowl of chicken soup and a glass of ginger-ale, and somehow made being home sick kind of "fun." I can remember those times like they were yesterday rather than 25 years ago.
Most importantly, I remember the way dad made me feel in those moments...so safe and protected, so loved, so cared for. He had this gentle way about him, a nurturing way that's quite uncommon. I remember the way I would always run to him for a big hug, and he'd always hug me back. He wasn't ashamed or embarassed by showing emotions or feelings. The courage that took was something I'd come to realize much later in my own life. I remember his laugh, the way it would come from deep down in his belly, and the way his eyes would positively sparkle when he smiled, or was telling a joke. How much passion he still had (although his opportunities to express it had long dwindled) for his trumpet and music...and how he'd jump at the chance to play "taps" for the local funeral homes, just so he'd have a reason to practice and play again. HE LOVED LIFE. And he showed me how to embrace living for all that it's worth, no matter your circumstances.
He had patience! Even though there were times he lost it with us kids, I literally cannot remember a single time when he lost it or raised his voice towards my mother, not one. What kind of super-human was he? I could never count the hundreds, maybe thousands of days he'd wake at 6am - in the winter no less - to scrape off the car, get it started and warmed up, and shovel the walk - all in time for my mom to leave for work, and still in time to drive my brother and I to school so we wouldn't have to walk in the freezing cold. Oh, those moon-boots he used to wear (haha - we'd laugh as kids but he wasn't proud). In short, he did everything he could to make each of our lives easier, despite any (physical) limitations. When I reflect on these and so many other examples of the selflessness on which his life was built, I wonder how he managed. What did he do with his own feelings of despair, insecurity, lonliness, fear, regret? I cannot answer that, because shamefully, I was never selfless or brave enough to ask. But I can tell you this, he managed beautifully and without complaint. He sheltered his family from any negativity that he may have felt, and made the best of his situation and role as "Mr. Mom" in our family, and did it with joy.
Outside of the family, he was a good friend to many, and never missed an opportunity to volunteer for a good cause, or just say "hi" and tell a joke to cheer someone's spirits, whether he knew them or not. And again I ask, "who did this for him?" What internal resevoir did he draw from?
It was his faith, and his personal connection with God that made him the strong, courageous, humble man he was. Grace was granted him. And grace was taught by him, although maybe unbeknownst to him at the time. Of course, it goes without saying that my mother and my brother and I, gave him (at least some) inspiration and motivation...but I know it was God who truly led him down the path of his life, as He does with all of us who believe.
In remembering you today, dad, an entire year since you've left this life and moved on to another...I want to thank you. I have never known a more gracious, loving, gentle soul in my life than yours. My heart is your heart. I will be thinking of you every minute of the day today, and remembering your laugh, your smile, and feeling your loving presence all around me - in the calm breeze, in the chirping of the birds, in the butterflies whose wings will gently float above our garden. And I'll remember your passion for life, your courage and perserverence, and your peaceful nature....and know that no matter what life throws my way, I too can live joy-fully through it all, and come out with a more generous, humble heart ...one for serving God, my family, and others. Just as your example has shown me. I love and miss you.
Ann Marie
