Dad travels

For all of us in our family, I would say that the dad "sightings", like finding pennies in random places, or noticing lids dropping in quiet kitchens, have diminished significantly over the past year.  When a person dies, those still living cannot help but remain in the senses, and we look for signs that he or she's still around, when really, I think that the one who has passed over exists far beyond what our senses can tell us.  The experience is so grand and transformative that we who remain are left to speculate and only take in a limited amount of information which we try and process intellectually or emotionally.  Dad sightings have shifted and become more like dad travels.  The thoughts that I have about dad enter frequently when I focus on my mother and my sister, and with all of the lessons we're learning in life without him.  I'm pretty certain that dad traveled his share given the countless losses he experienced, the tragedies he suffered, and with the many hands that he held throughout his life.  And actually, his presence in my mind grows quite strong when I write about him.  So, given that he exists somewhere beyond our capacity to know, and that we must go on living our lives, it seems to have become more of an effort to place my dad in the forefront of my mind.  The fact is that dad was loved by so many people, and through them is also how he remains close to us.  Is he just as close to all of us now, wherever he is, as he was a year ago when we "saw" more of him, or pondered that he was watching over us?  I ask this, I close my eyes, and he just answers.  "Yes.  I'm right here."

Dad missed his father very much when he was alive.  A few times, he and I, or our whole family visited my grandmother where she resided in Carmel, and he would share how much he missed him.  What I miss is dad's infectious energy and humor, his kind soul, his dedication to his family and to the community.  I think that we have great lessons to learn about ourselves, within our families, and about humanity, when we gaze into the depths of our losses given that we were on one path of life when he was around, and now we're charting our own.

On December 12th, just two weeks ago, my husband and I drove to St. Helena to be with the Hispanic Community of the Catholic Church to honor Our Lady of Guadalupe and dad, their precious deacon.  What they had prepared in remembrance of him was spectacular--they custom-designed a bench, just the right size and on the most perfect spot on the lawn on the north side of the church in front of an alter for Mary, and they placed a plaque on the bench with a penny that says, "It's a good day."  They had also arranged a collage of photos of dad from over the years which showed his love and devotion to the people of the church and to his family.  I cannot thank them enough for this gift that truly honors dad in a fitting and momentous way.  Dad loved to sit on benches, and he loved to "people-watch".  The bench is a perfect symbol of dad, too, in that people can go there to rest, to reflect, or to find comfort with another person, and these were a few of dad's personal favorite things to do.  I wish it was closer to where I live so I could make more frequent visits to sit and think of him.  But I will rely on others in that small town, and people from far and wide (how perfect, too, that dad made friends wherever he went) to sit on that bench and feel the love that was reciprocated from the church community to him, and from him to us.

Today is Saturday, September 25th.  In my typical Saturday morning style, I woke up early and watched Project Runway to start my weekend off right.  Often I am up after 7am when I am not forced by my alarm clock to wake, but this morning I rose as if I was getting up for school.  I love it when the house is quiet and I can enjoy an indulgent breakfast, my cup of coffee, and the company of my two cats.  Some mornings I wake and spend time reading or writing, and like today,  feel inspired to blog a little.

Since I created this blog to reflect upon dad, I ought not spend too much time dwelling on my interest of Project Runway, or my love of coffee and quiet Saturday mornings.  My writing intent should remain on dad, since I feel as time passes, it is becoming harder and harder for me to see him and know that he is present.  Last month, the weekend after the anniversary date, mom decided to throw a party to thank friends who knew and loved dad and who were present with us the week of his death.  The gathering was also meant to symbolize a new year of change and be an opportunity to look forward into the future.  When Tony and I first heard that this event was in the works, we were skeptical about how it might unfold.  We did not really want to relive that week.  Period.  And we couldn't understand how mother would want to, either.  But she felt called to gather people, friends, back to her home and fill it with energy to keep dad's spirit alive in all of us as well as to remind us of the wonderful friendships our family has.  Despite my reservations about what I envisioned this "party" to be, the day turned out to be extremely joyous.  Mom and Beck prepared delicious Barefoot Contessa-inspired finger food, Becky organized festivities (a Jeopardy game of dad facts), and all of our friends brought the energy and love mom was hoping for.

We are now into year two without him.  I have my special table with his photo, the American flag we were given at his funeral, his military hat, and an angel on it in the corner of our bedroom.  It needs a little dusting, but it remains there to remind me of him every day.  I should put a penny on it....  What is harder, these days, is this challenge of defining our evolving family and family traditions.  We continue to be surrounded by dear friends who even agree to go dancing with our sweet momma, and my husband's family who open their arms to include us in their family celebrations.  We want to keep dad alive in us.  He was the patron of all of our family events and of the friendships that developed with our family over the years.  And now we are challenged to do this without him.  I am hopeful that as we walk in this new direction, we will have dad's fortitude and grace to help us understand the continued brilliance and light that draw us towards others and to a sense of peace as we look at ourselves anew.