missing Dad

Bob Goodman, Dad

It's been a time of travel, fear, worry, phone calls, more travel, and saying a final good bye to my father. Dad did not suffer at the end, and that came as a relief to all four of his children.

The busyness of the last months has come crashing down on me as normal life continues but my grief has some breathing room. Every day the sun rises and sets. Every day, people go about their daily routines of work and play and love. It seems a cruel fact of life, that it relentlessly continues. Despite death. Despite the death of my father.

Yet, life goes on. I remember my father and his many good years. I honor his good death. I miss him.

And maybe, just maybe

 in the missing

 I love my husband

 and family

and friends

 just a little more.

Because our days are all numbered.

 I want to leave a 

big trail of 

love 

light

 and laughter

in my wake.

Goodbye, Dad. I love you.

April 2016

Just weeks before his death, Dad sang this song with me. "King of the Road."

And, he pulled out his cornet and played "Taps."

All is well, Dad. Safely rest. God is nigh.

life goes on

Life goes on. I've thought or said those words many times. After a disappointment, life goes on. After a failure, life goes on. And, a few weeks ago, after the death of my father in law ... life goes on for the rest of us.

He died at home, as he wanted. Peacefully. No agitation or crying out. One moment he was awake, and the next asleep, and then he stopped breathing. 

Grief is tricky. Thinking about his life brings up feelings of admiration and delight. Or frustration  and regret. Or a thick blanket of sadness. The thick blanket days are the hardest. Life goes on.

Jan Pieter van Schoonhoven, 1926 -- 2013

Years ago, I was playing the Schubert Impromptus (Opus 90, numbers 1-4). My father in law enjoyed hearing me play, and sometimes he would make comments on various pieces. When I played this one (number 3) he said, "Play that one at my funeral." Here it is. For you, Paps.

Vladimir Horowitz, Schubert Impromptu Opus 90, No 3.

Sorrow

Filled with sorrow.
We are all filled with sorrow.
A son is gone.
His death a shock that extinguishes thoughts and hope and breath.
A mother grieves.
And her friends grieve
and wish the uselessness of their sadness could fill this
flat, dull void of death.


For KK with love.