One thing I have learned these past few years is how varied grief is. My experience is similar to many yet I find others who are far more stoic, maybe braver, and not nearly as emotional as I have been.
Yet, when I look back at my Dad’s death when I was 15 years old, I too was stoic and really quite brave. As a child of the 30’s and a teenager through the war years, I had learned a lot about life, as it did many brought up during those years. We sort of accepted that life would be tough and that was that.
My relationship with Dad was not the kind you read about in books. He had been with the CP Railroad for years so I seldom saw him. He had had a couple of years of retirement before he died. During my “bobby-sock years” I was wrapped up in boyfriends, cheer leading and trying to understand math. He was kind, quiet and spent his time listening to the radio. My two sisters and I had arrived late in his life and although I know he loved us, he was not demonstrative.
When I came home that Saturday night from “Teen Town” and found my mother sitting, crying that he had just died. I accepted it and immediately realized the fact that I would have to help Mom out (financially and physically) if we were to carry on. I only cried once (and certainly not in front of my friends). I then secured several part-time jobs and continued with my school work.
Losing Harry was so different. This time I was devastated and there was a lot more responsibility to take on.
But I believe God had prepared me … the death of my Dad had made me take on tasks at a young age. I knew I could manage with His help. He was there when I was 15 and He would not forsake me in my senior years.
As a young person I did mourn what could have been … a Dad to take me down the aisle, a Dad to play grandpa with my children, a Dad to go fishing with my husband. I mourned the loss of those things that would never be.
And when I think of Harry I mourn the loss of what we once had. Fifty-four years is a lot of memories to re-live. They invade my thoughts, unannounced, but now fade back quicker than they did a couple of years back. I am in recovery and now I more often smile than cry when I remember what once was and how dearly we were blessed.
