Time Enough For Questions

Monday August 17, 2009

Categories: Faith, Fearlessness, My Dad

I had said that I wanted - that I needed - to narrate this process, this journey through the experience of my father's death. But it's hard. I return to my bed (so far from home) at the end of each day and I am fatigued to the very tippy-toes of my soul. So while I am narrating this experience, constantly, to myself, by myself, in whispers to myself, my aching fingers just aren't getting it down.

Time. I need time. Time to not be so tired and heart-sore. Time to sort through the eleventeen questions swirling through my head. Questions about his death and his life and about life and death in general. And questions like this:

1) Is there such a thing as ghosts, other than as the figurative representation of that feeling we have that someone is always with us?

2) Is it wrong to want to be haunted? To be afraid to be haunted, and yet to desire it with every fiber of your being?

3) How does one bring the traditions of one's family religion into the process of dealing with death when both the dead and the living are lapsed - ambivalently lapsed, but intentionally lapsed?

4) God doesn't mind when you get really, really mad at Him, right?

5) And he hears when you tell yourself that you're not that mad, really. Just sad. Right?

6) Because he can read your mind, right?

5) Can ghosts read your mind? Like, say, God?

Like I said, I'm struggling, and confused. Bear with me.

Comments (17)

Filed Under: dad, death, ghosts, god

posted by Catherine Connors @11:18am Permalink email icon

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Sharon - Mom Generations

August 18, 2009 1:25 PM

I came back to read your other comments, and am struck by the similarities in the way people deal with the death of a parent. My Dad died 34 years ago this month. Tragic circumstances did not surround his death, but he suffered cardiac arrest at age 47. Then he was gone. I was a young woman at the time. My last memory of my Dad was the night before he died. I had gone home for dinner with my parents... a lovely, lovely night... and when I was getting into my car to leave, my Dad came to the door to wave, as he always did... but he called to me, "Sis {my nickname from him and him alone}, are you going to be OK? Do you need anything?" I thought it strange and wonderful all at the same time as I answered, "I'm fine!" I waved and he waved and he died early the next morning. Did he sense it? I cherish his last hug and kiss and words and wave each day, even now. I dream of him often, always in his "relaxing" clothes... a red flannel shirt and comfortable pants. He always hugs me with his mammoth hug and tells me everything is fine. I know he visited me on my wedding day... 33 years ago. He was there. He took me by such surprise with his presence. The living man. My Dad also visits my oldest daughter, Audrey, although they've never met in the form of life as we know it. The first time she acknowledged his presence was at a swim meet. She was 7 years old, and another little fast-swimming girl was ahead of her. This little girl's grandfather was her coach. All of a sudden, Audrey took off and finished first. I was stunned, as was the other little girl and her grandfather. I asked Audrey, "What made you swim so fast?" She answered, "I asked Grandpa to help me." That was that. And he has visited often...

This time for you is so very difficult, so very contemplative, as I wrote previously. But the living man who is your Dad will always be a presence. Different. But here. I know this will not take away your unthinkable pain, and I pray for you and your family to please continue to rely on the strength of those around you.

Roberta

August 18, 2009 8:24 PM

Catherine,

My heart cries for you and with you. My mother died 4 1/2 years ago, and your entry from your blog:

"I’m tired. So tired. This process is so long and so hard and so taxing on the heart and soul (although, I know, I know, so necessary and in some ways so good, because this is his last gift to me, this opportunity to take one last journey with him, and to grow up, to really truly grow up, in the process) and so I am tired."

Summed up so much of the first few years so beautifully.

I wish I could answer your questions for you, but the answers are only yours. I do believe in ghosts, and in our loved ones sending us messages from where they have gone. My mother sent me little feathers and a song when I needed them most. We also talked in a dream, and she told me things that hurt but I needed to know. I also really believe she visited my infant daughter a few months after she died. I understand the desire to be haunted even while you are scared of it, and don't want that type of existence for them. She hasn't communicated with me for a while, I think it was just to ease my transition, now she is enjoying all the time she missed with the two children she lost.

My thoughts are with you and your family at this terrible, exhausting time.

ewe_are_here

August 19, 2009 6:16 PM

http://www.thereeweare.blogspot.com

I lost my dad five years ago this month. I don't know about ghosts, but I do know that there are moments I see him every once in a while, be it walking down the street or sitting on a park bench. It usually comes out of the blue. Unsettling, yes. But I would miss these occasional moments...

My heart goes out to you and yours at this terribe time. Sadly, I know how you feel.

Kate

August 20, 2009 10:03 AM

My condolences. I can only imagine the pain and lose you are feeling.

The week after my aunt died my sister saw her in our living room, during one of those night time trips to the kitchen. I 100% believe her, even if she wasn't a ghost per se, I believe that people come back to you sometimes for you. They know you need the peace or closure. I know that when I really am down my uncle hugs me. I swear I can feel it.

I'm not a church going christian, but I believe very much in god. He doesn't get mad at you for hating him for awhile. Think of him as a good friend or a member of your family. Haven't you had a fight with one of them and for awhile you absolutely can't stand them, but under all the bad feelings you still love the person? God gets that, and I hope he can read my mind when I silently say a prayer when I'm in a tough situation or on a bumpy plane ride.

Busy Mom

August 21, 2009 3:18 PM

http://busymom.net

Just checking on you. It's hard to describe, but you have to get used to the feeling that they are just somewhere where you can't see them. I never felt that until my mother died.

I've found you get the "visits" when you least expect it. I've only had a couple, but one of them was actually rather amusing. Until it happened to me, I thought people who described these were a little "touched", but the presence is real.

As for the religion, just take it as it comes and do what seems right. Long story, but my Christian Scientist uncle ended up having a bit of a Catholic burial when he died.

Just know you will feel like yourself again, and there's no one measurement of how long it takes.

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