« Solo Flight | Main | Reading Art: Finding Your Pink Giraffe »
The Passing Away of a Father-in-Law
By Deborah | March 21, 2006
As I look around the room today, I have to think that Dad would be humbled and amazed at how many people came from all over to celebrate his life.
When I think about Dad’s life I would have to say that he was probably best known for his naturally reserved nature. He was a quiet, unassuming man that would get excited about the simplest of things…a great Sunday meal at Holly’s…a new edition of Motor Trends…seeing a new aircraft fly overhead…lunch with his friends at the community center…the way Mom’s cat rubbed up against his legs…the pride he felt watching his grandchildren grow into young men and women. Simple things meant the most to him.
There were so many things about Dad that few of us really knew. He wasn’t the type of person to brag or even talk about himself much. Unless you asked him point blank…you would never know that he drove for General Patton during the war…or that he was a expert violinist… An accomplished figure skater…Or the fact that he built the early cockpit environments that are still used in aerospace today. I bet you didn’t know about the roadster that he and his brother built in the back yard? Yes, these things were extraordinary for such a quiet, reserved man. Other things were not so spectacular, but every bit as extraordinary…little things like keeping every note and card that he ever received for birthdays and holidays. The way he would phone out of the blue…just to say hello. The way he would remember to ask about the new car you just bought or how the kids were doing. Simple gestures…simple kindnesses. Nothing too fussy…grand, or overdone…that wouldn’t have been his way.
His expectations about life, wealth and happiness were few. He didn’t need a castle, riches or a new sports car every year to validate who he was (although I think he would have liked the new sports car every year). He was content with simple pleasures of surrounding himself with a loving family and lifelong friends.
If Dad could speak to us now, he might suggest that we look beyond this time of sadness and notice some of the simple things that gave him so much pleasure. He might also suggest that we look for him in ordinary places. He also might suggest listening to the words of this Hopi Indian prayer when the sadness starts to overtake you.
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
by Mary E. Frye
We will be looking for you Dad in the winds that blow, the spring rains, and the quiet flock of birds that passes over head.
Topics: Short Stories | No Comments »