Wow, from one to the next. After losing my cat a couple of days ago, my Dad passed away this afternoon.
We knew this was going to happen as the cancer he had been fighting for years had finally caught up to him. He had been in hospice for about three weeks, and I got to talk with him a week ago. Of course, I expect I will talk with him more afterwards.
It is always hard losing a parent. Of course, this is the normal course of things, although I see too often where parents lose children. But these are the people that raise us, that teach us right from wrong, that give us the moral foundation on which we base our lives.
Through my life, I learned what I can and can not do. I learned what was possible and what was not, although I feel I have extended the possible into that not possible range more than he would have believed while on this side. I am also willing to tilt at windmills a little bit more as well.
I learned to be like him in many ways, and learned to not be like in as many. What I saw as his failings, I gave myself the determination that I would do better, and I think for the most part, I have.
But he was always a rock, a steady point to look toward. I can always remember him having great strength and knowledge, and a willingness to learn that delved into computers and other technical aspects.
But as he grew older, I saw him weaken. His physical strength giving way to weakness as his body started to give him problems. I saw his razor-sharp mind start to go as he continued to watch FOX news, something he would never have put up with when he was younger. In the last year, he started forgetting things. This is a man that had worked as a mathematician, and was always on top of things, able to figure anything out. So when he started forgetting things, I knew his time was coming.
The medium and spiritualist in me knows that he is fine now. I know that he is out of pain, and back with Mom, who he was married to for over 50 years. The human in me misses him as I can’t just pick up the phone and call him. So I tread a fine balance of human loss, and spiritual understanding and celebration. I am strong, yet I have points where I relax and start crying. That is the human thing, to grieve one’s loss. And it truly is a loss. I don’t mean a loss for him. After all, he lived 93 years, and accomplished a lot. But it is a loss for those of us that miss him in this plane of reality.
Well, tomorrow, I will be flying back to a very cold Maryland to meet my brother and attend to things. I am not looking forward to the trip, nor am I looking forward to dealing with anything else up there. But I know he will be looking over me as will a number of spirits that have gathered recently.