Today one of my friends called me, as her dad just died. My friend is sadly now a member of the Dead Father’s Club. Because I went through the grueling and exhausting experience of care taking for several years, and watched loved ones deteriorate and go through the death process, I’ve somehow become the go to girl when others are going through the same. When my Uncle George passed away this year, my cousins understood more of what I went through, as they suddenly realized the devastation that one feels when you lose a father you are close to and with whom you love dearly, and who now is gone.
I became a member nearly three years ago. My dad’s birthday was also in December. December, which used to be one of my favorite months, now stands as a reminder of a life past. No longer do I get to see the joy on his face when he opened my gifts, the smiles he gave me even as his body began to give out, his funny jokes and wit. No longer do I celebrate his birthday with him, nor Christmas, and now New Year’s Eve is always a reminder of the day he died.
Death is such a finality. Even in the case of my pops, who was experiencing declining health and later required two people to feed him (one to hold him up), once your loved one dies, there is a solemnness and finality, because there is no chance for a miraculous recovery. The soul leaves and goes to the other side, and most people are unable to be with their loved one in spirit unless they are empathic or sensitives. Still, many can sense their presence, at least during the first few days of their passing. No matter what, death separates us from enjoying being with our loved ones in human form, and for that we forever mourn that loss.
